Special Agent Harris, NCIS
by fojee
Summary: Buffy the Vampire Slayer and NCIS crossover, AU; S1 of NCIS, diverging from S5 of BtVS. Xander Harris becomes a special agent.
1. Chapter 1

Special Agent Harris, NCIS

By Fojee

Crossover and AU. Set in middle of S1 of NCIS; post S5 of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, except that Xander Harris attended college after S3.

Disclaimer: Bellisario and Whedon owns 'em all.

Will not contain slash. Probably.

---

Prologue

"Fresh graduate from a liberal arts college in small town, California, no military background, no background in any law enforcement," Gibbs listed with growing incredulity as he read the open file, "and you want to put him on _my_ team? I don't have time babysitting kids, Director."

Director Morrow stared his best agent down. "Harris is as green as they come, Gibbs, but he has solid references. This went through high channels, Jethro."

Gibbs snorted. He hated people who got by on their father's rep or their connections. "I'd have to check these names out. Just how highly connected is he? Why does he have military references?"

"The info's classified. The most I could get was that Harris got caught in the middle of an op his freshman year at UC Sunnydale, and he saved lives. He's coming in this afternoon at three, Jethro. Don't go anywhere."

The other man grunted to show his assent.

---

Rupert Giles, Major Riley Finn, Professor James Lomoski: what do they have in common?

The first was a former high school librarian and British to boot, and yet when Gibbs dug deeper, he found Rupert Giles to be an Oxford graduate and a former curator of the British Museum, now working as a freelance translator and researcher. What had he been doing at an American high school library, and what was his relationship to one Alexander Harris?

Gibbs called the number listed in Harris' resume and got a perky teenager with a Californian accent, before managing to get ahold of Dr. Giles. For someone so learned, the former librarian did not say much. All he got was, "He is someone you'd trust at your back, Special Agent Gibbs. He is more competent than he appears, and is highly astute." He refused to elaborate further.

The second was easier to place, given Morrow's tidbit. Major Riley Finn was working black ops, as black as they come for someone so young. He was currently out of reach of satphone, but he still managed to fax a handwritten note full of glowing praise. _Harris has good instincts, and would be a credit to any institution._ Blah, blah, blah. There was no mention of whatever transpired in Sunnydale.

James Lomoski was one of the more eccentric professors at FLETC. Harris had graduated at top ten percentile of his class. Not bad but not too good either. "Speaks a little too much, but has more to say than the rest of his class put together. Does not intimidate easily." _Good_, Gibbs thought. _He might survive then. _

---

And yet he was still surprised when Harris arrived. The young man wore an ill-fitting black jacket with a cheap tie that was a little too tight, but he stood like a soldier, his eyes wary and alert. Gibbs gestured at the door of one of the conference rooms, holding the man's files in his hand.

Xander Harris sat down at the edge of the chair, looking like he'd flee at the smallest excuse.

"You sure you want to be here, Harris?" He asked without preamble.

Xander nodded, trying to keep his doubts to himself. "I know I'm too inexperienced to be a field agent…" He began.

"Damn right you are," Gibbs interrupted. "You're inexperienced, period. Normally, I'd tell you to rack up a few years somewhere else before you come back to me, but some higher up won't let that happen. Anything you wanna say about that?"

Xander shrugged. "I don't know anything about that, sir. I just received word that there's a possible opening in a team here in D.C."

"Word from whom?" Gibbs barked. "And don't call me sir."

"I have friends in the military," Xander replied cautiously. "Let's just say they keep an eye out for me, Special Agent Gibbs. If they do more than that, that's up to them…"

Gibbs slammed the folder on the table, taking pleasure in making the young man jump. "Well if I have no say in it, then there's no point wasting my time interviewing you, is there? You will be part of my team, Harris. That means your ass is mine."

Xander blushed. "Yes, sir. Uh, I mean, Special Agent…"

"Just call me boss."

"Yes, boss."

"Be here tomorrow at 0800. And get rid of that damned tie."

Xander loosened his tie and breathed a sigh of relief. So now he was a Navy cop. "Thanks a lot, Riley," he muttered under his breath, not sure how much he meant it.

---

It all started with a loan.

Rupert Giles took Xander aside after graduation and offered to pay for his college education. Xander was shocked and more than a little flattered by the attention. And that was the reason why he allowed himself to be persuaded.

"But what will I study?"

"Have you never thought about what kind of employment you would like to pursue after you graduate?" Giles asked, while sipping a cup of tea in his living room, Xander right across from him.

He shrugged. "I just figured I'd go through minimum wage jobs until I find something bearable."

Giles looked the boy up and down. "That is a little bleak, isn't it?"

Xander looked at him warily. "Right now, I'm still trying to absorb the fact that I made it out of high school alive."

"But if you don't have something you want to do…" Giles started to argue.

Xander looked down into the murky depths of his cup of coffee. "Well, I guess I like helping people. I like knowing that I'm making a difference, you know." _I don't like attending funerals of people who died because I wasn't good enough. _He swallowed that thought down, thinking of the classmates who did not make it.

"You could always go into law enforcement," Giles mused.

Xander snorted, almost shooting coffee up his nose. He had an admittedly well-deserved, low opinion of the local cops.

"There is life outside of Sunnydale, Xander."

He made a noncommittal noise. "I won't leave you guys."

Giles linked his hands in front of him and caught his eyes. "We'll see."

And Xander Harris found himself enrolled at University of California in Sunnydale, taking up Criminology.

---

Buffy Summers was dead.

Xander attended her funeral, holding a single red rose in his shaky hands. Beside him, Dawn stood like a ghost. She barely spoke these days. Giles stood on her other side, his arm around her shoulder. A step away, and there was Willow, being held by Tara.

He knew Spike was around, feeling the bleached vampire like an itch at the back of his neck. He stifled the urge to invite him to stand beside them; he knew Spike grieved in his own way, and would not appreciate being seen as weak. After all, they had already witnessed his tears right after Buffy fell from the tower.

Anya was gone. She couldn't handle all the recent deaths, and had packed her bags as soon as she hobbled home. Xander still carried the ring in his pocket. He was going to propose to her, but now it would never happen.

They watched the casket being lowered in utter silence, broken by a choked sob or two. There was little in the way of a ceremony. As far as Xander was concerned, the headstone said it all. She saved the world a lot. And she would never be forgotten.

Later, a wan, pale-faced group sat around a table at the Magic Box—closed indefinitely—to talk about what had to be done.

"Faith," Xander said roughly. "We need Faith here."

Giles looked like he wanted to polish his glasses, but his arm was still around Dawn's shoulders, the young teen snuggling at his side like he was the last rock in the hurricane. "Faith still has to serve the remaining years of her sentence, Xander."

"I could call Riley. See if we can get her out the legit way," Xander said somberly.

"And if we can't?" Willow asked tremulously.

"Then we find another way," Xander said, meeting their eyes one by one. "This isn't a debate, guys. We can't hold the hellmouth indefinitely. Not without a slayer."

"We have the Buffybot," Dawn spoke up for the first time.

Xander sighed. "That's just a stop-gap measure, Dawnie. I think it's best for all of us not to rely too much on the bot. It makes grieving more complicated," he said after a moment of hesitation.

"Xander's right." It was Spike who voiced the words, and even Xander raised his eyebrows at that. "I, for one, would prefer that Dawn be moved somewhere safer."

"No!" Dawn cried out. "You're going to call him, aren't you? You're just going to dump me in his lap, when we aren't even sure if he knows me?" She was sobbing openly now.

Spike moved much too fast, and was at her side immediately. "That's not what I meant, Nibblet. Hush, now." He took her in his arms and held her tight.

Giles took the opportunity to polish his glasses. "No one would abandon you to your father, Dawn. As far as we're concerned, _we_ are your family." Dawn was calming down when he continued. "As a matter of fact, I already called him, but merely to handle some paperwork. If you'll agree, I'd like to formally adopt you."

Dawn looked at them all with wide eyes, still held against Spike's chest. "Really?" She asked in a small voice.

Giles smiled at her sadly. "I would be honored if you'd say yes."

Dawn nodded, fresh tears spilling from her eyes.

So it was settled. Dawn and Giles would go to England as soon as the papers were processed. She was resistant to the idea of leaving, but at the same time greeted it with something close to relief. Tara and Willow promised to write; they chose to stay at the hellmouth, at least until they finish their degrees.

"Faith might need some back-up," Willow offered her excuse.

"Wesley already agreed to become her watcher again," Giles reminded her. "And Angel said he'd keep an eye on things."

"We'll see how things go," Tara said, touching Willow's arm lightly. "She may not want our help, baby."

Willow bit her lip. "I guess," she agreed reluctantly.

"What about you, Xander?" Giles asked. "Are you finishing your degree here, too?"

He shrugged. "Well, it'd be a waste if I don't. Then I'll owe you all that money for nothing."

Giles smiled at him fondly. "You could always transfer to a different uni, Xander. There are excellent law enforcement training schools down the east coast, for instance."

"And leave all this behind?" Xander gestured around him mockingly. "On second thought, where do I sign up?"

And he found himself in Virginia, then in D.C. being interviewed by Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs.

And he barely missed the late nights, the endless research parties, broken by moments of sheer terror as he fought for his life. He had left it all behind, he thought. Oh, if he only knew.

---

A/N: I usually don't like to post things that are not complete, but in this case, I felt I needed the boost of having readers constantly nagging me to write. Please review!


	2. Chapter 2

Special Agent Harris, NCIS

Fojee

Chapter One: A New Pup in the Pack

I've figured the timeline out as post "Sub-Rosa" (1x07)

---

Anthony DiNozzo surveyed his domain with great satisfaction.

Kate was sitting right across from him, twirling the phone cord in one hand, while talking to a metro detective about a cold case. He spent a moment admiring the curve of her mouth as she flirted with the person on the other end of the line. He made a mental note to tease her about it as soon as she hangs up.

Gibbs' table was diagonal to him, stacked with folders from old cases and a cup of coffee. The former marine looked hard at work, and in a mood so black he'd swear the man was growling! But then, Tony wouldn't want him any other way.

The desk beside him had been cleared. It had been empty awhile, since Gibbs kept firing people who couldn't live up to his expectations. Tony looked at Kate again. She was tougher than she looked, to be able to last this long. Maybe in a year or two…

The elevator opened and a young man in an off-the-rack suit stepped out. Tony watched him absently, tapping his fingers on his table. The man hesitated before turning towards their side of the bullpen. He stood at attention in front of Gibbs' desk.

"Uh, boss?" He asked.

Tony immediately perked up. Across him, Kate raised an eyebrow. He shrugged, and ducked his head and pretended to be busy, while listening in.

"About time, Harris. Sit down over there," Gibbs gestured at the empty desk across from him. Then he stood up and picked up a box of files from the floor, and slammed it on top of the new guy's table. "Read these."

Xander Harris looked up uncertainly. "Uh, what else do I do, boss?"

"Just _read_ them, Harris. You are not going into the field until you know these case files by heart. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir, I mean boss," Xander stuttered out.

Gibbs grunted and went back to his desk. Tony did not know whether to frown or to snicker. What was this? A disturbance in the kingdom?

Later, after the new guy left to go to the head, he sneaked a peek at Gibbs' face. He looked much calmer, so Tony decided to chance it. He cleared his throat. "You didn't tell me you hired somebody new, boss."

"I didn't," Gibbs growled out. "He got himself placed on my team. Damned if I know how."

"But he's a probie, right?" Tony asked. The kid looked like he should still be in college.

"Greener than grass, DiNozzo," Gibbs replied, sighing. "If you think Kate was hard to teach—"

"Hey!" Kate protested. "I haven't even been here six months, Gibbs."

Tony and Gibbs smirked at each other. When Xander returned however, Gibbs lost his smile, and Tony followed suit. He surveyed his domain again. It was still _his_, right?

---

When the director asked Gibbs to come to MTAC for a consultation, Tony and Kate couldn't pass up the chance. They both stood up and parked themselves in front of the newbie's desk.

"Tony DiNozzo, Senior Field Agent," Tony introduced himself. "Former cop."

"Uh, Xander Harris," the newbie said. "Former student?"

Tony and Kate shared a shocked glance before she spoke, "Caitlin Todd." She offered her hand. "I was in the Secret Service before Gibbs hired me," she told him with a slightly patronizing smile.

Xander was impressed in spite of himself. "Really? I bet you know the White House inside out. I've never been there, you know. We had a school trip when I was nine, but I got sick, so my friends Willow and Jesse wanted to take a picture of the president to cheer me up and they tried to look for him, and they got lost. Finally, like three hours after the tour, some secret agent guys found them in some study, playing with the First Dog. Mrs. Thomson was furious."

"Mrs. Thomson?" Tony asked, grinning at the babble.

"Social science teacher," Xander explained. "Anyway, they got me a picture of the First Dog, so it was still cool."

Kate looked like she was barely containing in her laughter. "So, Xander, how _did_ you join NCIS, anyway?"

"Um, I asked?" The young man said, with a weak smile.

---

Tony took charge of the interrogation, firing question after question at the newbie. Xander Harris tried his best to keep up. After a while, with Tony interrupting him again and again, he gradually lost his stutter and his tendency to babble, and gave brief, concise answers, followed by sir.

Tony frowned. Xander Harris was starting to sound military.

"Are you a marine?"

"No, sir."

"What are you, then?"

"Navy SE…" Xander bit his lip hard. "I mean, civilian, sir."

Tony leaned back on his heels. Now he was getting somewhere. "Now why—"

Kate interrupted him, by jabbing her elbow at his side. Tony looked up in irritation, to catch sight of the boss walking down the stairs. He leaned towards Harris. "We ain't finished yet, Harris."

Xander paled even more and muttered, "Yessir," under his breath, before Gibbs was on them like a ton of bricks.

"Why aren't you working, Harris?"

---

It had been hard going back to handing paperwork and case files at Norfolk after he had seen how a real MCRT works. Timothy McGee had always wanted to be a federal agent, to be the one who solves the crime, who finds the bad guys and saves the dames. Everybody kept telling him it's only a matter of time, and that he needs to get some experience first. But if he entered one more mind-numbing piece of data, he will start screaming. Luckily just then, the phone rang. He answered it with the relief of a drowning man reaching for a lifeline.

"It's Gibbs. I need a favor."

"Whatever you need, boss," he stuttered out eagerly, his lips stretching into a smile.

"I need you to dig into one Alexander Lavelle Harris. He's a new agent, just got accepted here."

McGee typed down the name in a notepad. "H-how do you spell Lavelle, boss?"

Gibbs sighed before answering, "Lima, Alpha, Victor, Echo, Lima, Lima, Echo. I want everything you can find, and everything you _can't_, understood?"

"But boss, if he's a new agent, he'd already been vetted, right?" McGee asked confusedly, even as he opened his search engines.

"Just get it done, McGee. Bring it over in forty-eight hours." And Gibbs cut the call.

---

Xander sighed, rubbing his eyes. The words were starting to swim on the page, and he had to squint to get them to stand still long enough to be read. He was getting restless, but whenever he'd make the tiniest move, Special Agent Gibbs would look up and throw a glare in his general direction.

Not for the first time, he began to rethink his career choice. Sure the files were more interesting than his college textbooks, and were easier to understand than Giles' ancient tomes on demon research. There was just so many of them! It seemed like the box contained case files of every NCIS response team dating to two years ago. Xander chanced a peek into the last folder and blanched. The date on the last file was barely three months after the first one he had read.

"There's more where that came from, Harris," Gibbs said in a deceptively friendly tone.

He stifled the urge to stick out his tongue, and burrowed deeper into his chair. Tony and Kate, the two agents under Gibbs' command barely stifled snickers. Xander sighed. He had a sudden craving for a donut.

_At 0400, February 5, 2003, an incendiary device exploded at the marina, injuring three and killing one bystander. After the initial investigation, the source was discovered to be a small craft that had been registered three days prior. Fingerprints on the registered documents matched Jainal Sali, a known operative of the terrorist group Abu Sayyaf…_

Make that a Bavarian cream donut. With sprinkles.

---

The first time Gibbs made him run an errand, it was to get a copy of an autopsy report down to Doctor Mallard.

"Ah, you must be young Alexander. It's a pleasure to finally meet you," said the old guy in blue scrubs.

Xander found himself smiling at the familiar British accent. "You're Doctor Mallard, right? Gibbs asked me to give you this." He handed over the folder that they got from the M.E. at Norfolk.

"Call me Ducky, my boy." The older man accepted the folder and opened it to check. "Ah, yes. This is the right one, the autopsy of Petty Officer Carwell. I asked for a copy because there might be a connection to our current case." He indicated the body on one of the metal tables, its chest cavity already opened.

Xander, intrigued, took a closer look. It reminded him of that kid that Adam dissected his freshman year at UCS. "What do you do with the organs?" He asked curiously, noticing that the heart and the liver were missing.

"We test them and note any abnormalities, which may indicate cause of death. It is particularly important in this case, as the petty officer collapsed and died without any major external injuries, so poison is immediately suspected. The blood and urine and sometimes the strands of hair are tested for possible drugs at Abby's lab."

"Cool," Xander breathed out. _How easier would demon research be, if we had a way of testing various ooze and scales and horn clippings?_ He thought, imagining Giles in scrubs and Willow as a forensic scientist.

"Indeed. Now look here," Ducky said, pointing to a tiny bruise at the victim's elbow. "This indicates the use of a syringe. The Lieutenant Major tested clean at his last drug test, so we know he's not a habitual user. And the bruises on his arms suggest the use of force, quite similar to Petty Officer Carwell's injuries. It reminds me of a young man I treated while I was traveling in India…"

Xander listened wide-eyed.

---

"I do like that young man you just hired, Jethro. He's very eager to learn. A little like Mr. Palmer in that regard, though I got the impression that he's getting a bit restless riding that desk," Ducky told Gibbs after the lead agent went down to get an update on the current case.

Gibbs grunted and walked out.

---

Kate couldn't read Gibbs very well, even after several months on the team. So she didn't know what to do when Gibbs slammed a thick file on her desk, and ordered her, "Profile Harris. Give me the results as soon as you're done."

She had barely opened her mouth and he had walked out.

She opened the file and scanned the contents: Alexander Lavelle Harris' high school and college transcripts, medical records, phone records and more. At the bottom, there were several blacked out pages.

She had absolutely no clue how to handle this.

---

Stan Burley told Tony he was in the office two years before Gibbs even looked him in the eye. He wondered what that would have been like. If Gibbs had treated him like that, he wouldn't have made it to two years. But then, he had an attention problem and he knew it. It was weird though, seeing the new kid treated like that. Funny at first, but after a solid week where Xander gets shouted at or ignored, and not allowed to go with them to a crime scene, and Tony found himself feeling sorry for the kiddo.

He got headslaps, and he didn't really mind them. But the new kid got looks that could curdle blood, and the promise of violence in Gibbs' eyes worried him. What if Gibbs started giving him something a lot worse than a headslap?

So one night, he invited Xander to a game of basketball.

"You're a jock, aren't you?" The kid asked accusingly.

Tony laughed. "Yup. Phys ed major. Why, are you scared, Harris? I bet the jocks bullied you all the time in high school."

Xander chucked. "Yeah, you jock, me the class clown runner-up. I still have my issues with jocks, but I'm mostly over it now." _I got over it when I beat up Larry the Pirate on Halloween, and when he came out to me, and when I got him killed at graduation,_ he added bitterly to himself.

"So how about it? You must be tired of sitting on that ass for the past week," Tony ragged on him.

"You're on."

Xander lost of course. But they walked away from the court the best of friends.

---

Abby just didn't feel the same way.

Gibbs had taken Xander over to her lab to teach him about chain of evidence and other lab procedures. Xander took one look at her gothic outfit and blurted out, "Don't tell me you sleep in a coffin, too." His derisive tone earned him a particularly vicious headslap from Gibbs, and a death glare from Abby.

_I can kill you without leaving any forensic evidence, Harris._ The words popped up on his computer at the oddest times since. He smiled wryly. So he didn't think much of the self-preservation instincts of your common Goth. They tend to have super short or super long lives back in Sunnydale, depending on who's biting. But the threat… It reminded him of Buffy.

_You can use my ribcage as a hat,_ he wanted to reply_. You can break my arm and stuff it up my…_

And then he'd stop and realize it all over again; Buffy was dead.

He went out of his way to avoid the forensic scientist's lab.

---

Director Morrow called Gibbs into his office a couple of days later.

"How about giving him a break, Jethro? According to his files, he seems to have excellent potential. But you'd never see it if you don't take him out on cases with you. Since we're stuck with him, we might as well make the best of it."

"I may not be able to fire him, but that doesn't mean I can't make him quit," Gibbs told him fiercely.

Tom Morrow gave up on persuading the stubborn agent. "Just remember he is still a member of your team, Jethro."

Gibbs walked away, muttering, "Not for long."


	3. Chapter 3

Special Agent Harris, NCIS  
Fojee

Chapter Two: A Series of Interrogations

Slight changes in the dialogue of "Minimum Security" 1x08

"Why'd you pick D.C. anyhow?" Kate asked him one morning, trying to be subtle. "California's a long way."

"That was kinda the point," Xander said, wry smile in place. "The farthest I could get away from home without jumping the pond, or is that jumping ship?" He frowned, trying to think of other jumping phrases.

"So you were running from something?" Tony asked.

Xander laughed, but it was not a happy one. "Just bad memories. Plus my friend Willow moved to Cleveland, and D.C.'s only seven hours away," he finished with a shrug.

"Girlfriend?" Tony asked, leaning forward.

Xander smiled. "With her girlfriend, yes. Don't you guys have work to do?"

"Whoa, _her girlfriend_?" Tony's eyes lit up like car beams.

Gibbs headslapped him. "Gear up. We got a body down Bainbridge. Dead petty officer in a car, almost run down some bikers. Not you, Harris. _Stay._"

Xander felt like whining, watching Tony and Kate leave with backpacks, sigs and badges. He looked at the badge in his drawer. Still didn't feel like his.

---

"We're going to Cuba?" Tony asked excitedly.

Xander perked up. He'd been doing background checks on Petty Officer Second Class Kahlil Sa'id whose body—sans the emeralds he had swallowed—was down in autopsy. "Does the 'we' include the 'me'?" He blurted out.

Kate looked at him disbelievingly, but he merely shrugged. So he still had a tendency to mangle the English the language. They should be thankful he didn't code switch into Fyarl or the other demon languages he knew.

Gibbs had turned back. "You will be riding that desk until you're thirty, Harris, so don't even think about it."

Xander's face fell, though he quickly recovered and saluted Gibbs mockingly. "Aye, aye, cap'n."

Tony shared a look with Kate, wordlessly communicating with a raised eyebrow and a tilted head. Kate nodded, so they both followed Gibbs into the elevator.

Gibbs looked at them askance, before he closed the doors and flipped the emergency switch, so that the elevator stopped in between floors. "Is there something you want to say?"

"Boss," Tony started, "why don't you let the kid come with us." At Gibbs' narrowed eyes, he continued hastily. "I mean, do you really trust him by himself? If he's in Cuba, you get to keep an eye on him, right, Kate?" Tony looked at the other agent for support.

"And if you really want me to profile him, I'll need to see him in action," Kate added.

"Profile?" Tony asked incredulously.

Gibbs sighed. "Alright, but he'll be on a tight leash."

"So I'll book a flight for four?" Tony asked with a grin.

"Don't bother. I'll see about getting us priority rides."

"Boss!" Tony whined. "I hate priority rides!"

---

"I love priority rides! Boss, this is the best!"

Tony looked like a kid who's been given exactly what he wanted for Christmas, pointing out the cool features on the Navy Gulfstream. Xander couldn't help grinning back. It wasn't until he had entered the plane that he really believed Gibbs was letting him come with them to Cuba.

And for once, the man wasn't glaring at him. "Can we get back to work, DiNozzo?"

"Sure thing, boss. Just, check this out." And Tony pressed another button and Xander looked at Kate, trying not to burst out laughing.

---

NCIS Special Agent Paula Cassidy looked tough and hot, and Tony was immediately interested.

_Of course he's interested; he _is_ Tony after all_, Xander thought with fondness, then surprise at how fond he was. He nudged Kate, who rolled her eyes at him, and he grinned like a fool. Gibbs still looked like he might kill Xander if he made a wrong move, but maybe this whole team thing wouldn't be so bad.

At the house they were staying at, he let Kate and Tony fight over the bedrooms, knowing he'd be stuck at the worst of them. Instead, he sat down across from Gibbs and tried to work up his nerve. "Thanks for letting me come, Agent Gibbs, uh, I mean boss."

"Wasn't my idea," Gibbs muttered, tilting his head in the direction of his two other agents.

"Well I get the feeling that if you really didn't want to, nothing they said would've made a difference," Xander said, accepting the files Gibbs handed over. "Which is probably why you hate my guts in the first place. Look, I know I got into your team in some…" He bit his bottom lip, trying to think of a word.

"Hinky manner?" Gibbs finished for him.

"Exactly," Xander said with a tiny laugh. "And I'd be suspicious of me, too. So how about we make a deal? Give me six months to learn the ropes. Why ropes anyway?" He made a face at his own digression. "Never mind. If I still really suck at the NCI-ing, I'd either ask for a transfer to a different team, or I'll give you permission to kick me out, I guess depending on how much I suck. Deal?"

Gibbs tried not to let his surprise show, and looked Xander in the eyes for the first time since he started at NCIS. The kid held his gaze and didn't back down. He let a bit of his growing respect color his voice when he answered, "Deal."

---

After the call to D.C. to talk to Abby, Gibbs booted Tony and Kate out of the best bedroom. "Three rooms, Harris, so you get the couch. Hit the rack, people!"

Xander watched in amusement as Tony and Kate fought over the two other rooms. He picked up his own duffel bag, and placed it by the long couch. He stood, stretching the kinks in his back and looked out the window at the Cuban night.

He still worried about his decisions, still worried that Faith hadn't softened enough, or that Wesley hadn't hardened enough—and that was just a bad visual place—or that Angel would get a happy and wreak havoc on the Hellmouth again and _he wasn't there_.

He worried about Willow and Tara, who had moved to the other Hellmouth in Cleveland after they graduated. Not as bad as Sunnydale, but the two witches didn't have any other back-up but him, and he was seven hours away. He worried about Dawn and boys, Dawn in college, taking Linguistics and Occult Studies at Oxford, getting stalked by her favorite bleached vampire; she will probably end up a Watcher, though Giles might have something to say about that. And Giles.

Actually, he'd worry more about Giles but Dawn had been good for the older man. They still talked every week, not about Buffy, but about anything and everything else. They were moving on.

He reached for his wallet, and took out a worn picture of him with Willow and Buffy. Willow still had long hair, and Buffy still had chubby cheeks—though he had never told her that; he wasn't suicidal after all. It had been more than four years since she jumped, since his entire world had been shattered. Sometimes, it still felt like yesterday. "Buffy, you'll always be my hero," he whispered into the night. "Help me do good, kay?"

There was another picture in his wallet, but he rarely took it out. It was Anya's. He had tried to find her after she left Sunnydale, but she had disappeared so completely that she either changed her name, or became a demon again, or was dead. It didn't matter. He smiled wryly at his own reflection. He had moved on, too.

---

Xander woke up at Tony's scream and the first weapon he went for was the wooden stake under his pillow. He had carved it himself. (Dawn kept Mr. Pointy of course, though Xander had Buffy's sword hanging on his apartment wall.)

He was glad he had slept out in the living room, which made him the last to enter Tony's room, so while Gibbs and Kate were pointing their guns at the iguana, and gaping at Tony's state of undress, he had time to slip the stake in his pocket.

"Hey Tony," he said. "Your girlfriend's looking a little green."

Gibbs snorted and turned away just after Tony grabbed a chair to cover himself. Kate winked at the naked agent, and sashayed out, her legs barely covered by the jersey she was wearing. Xander let them pass, before slipping into the room.

"Get dressed, man. I'll just take care of your little visitor," he said, carefully scooping up the iguana and grinning at Tony, who just gaped at him. He took it outside, letting it go on the grass. "Sorry, sweetheart. I don't think you're his type," he muttered as he watched it scamper across the lawn.

"That doesn't freak you out?" Tony asked him from behind. He was in loose jogging pants, shirtless and barefoot. "Don't iguanas bite or something?"

"It's just a big lizard, Tony. Believe me, there are worse things. Now if you show me a big praying mantis, I'd be running for my life." Xander smiled like it was a joke.

Tony raised an eyebrow. "You have a _wild_ imagination, Special Agent Harris."

Xander just shook his head and laughed.

"By the way, Harris," Tony added, smirking at him, "is that a sig in your pocket or were you having a really nice dream?"

Xander hesitated, laughter gone in an instant, before flashing a bright grin and taking out his stake to wave it in Tony's face. "It's just wood, Tony. I whittle for fun."

Tony pursed his lips, before slinging an arm over Xander's shoulders. "You'll get along with Gibbs then. Did you know he's building a boat in his basement?"

"Really?" Xander asked, eyes brightening, as they walked towards the smell of coffee.

---

Bill Gamal, senior translator at Camp Delta, delivered Agent Cassidy's interrogation files, boxes and boxes of them. Xander groaned. It didn't matter where he was; he was still going to be stuck with the paperwork.

"Get to work, Harris," Gibbs said almost cheerfully. "DiNozzo, find everything on Agent Cassidy: who her friends are in Gitmo, how she spends her free time, where she hangs out and whether she involved with Sa'id or not. Kate, anything you can dig up on our late petty officer."

"On it, boss," Tony said with a grin. Oh, he was going to _enjoy_ this assignment.

---

"I don't suppose you'll let me sit in with the interrogation?" Xander asked, even as he flipped through Paula Cassidy's transcripts.

"And why would I let you do that, Harris? You're not a profiler."

"I'll never learn a thing if I'm stuck with this crap," Xander argued, then backed off when he saw Gibbs' expression. "But if you don't want me there, I won't be."

"Maybe when you realize that this crap is eighty percent of our investigations, you'll have second thoughts about wanting to be a fed."

Xander smiled at him, a little sadly. "I already know the job's not all glamour and girls. Believe me, I do. And I know I'm not too up-to-date with procedures, but how do I develop Tony's instincts if I only read about the cases? I thought we had a deal?"

"The deal was six months in my team. That means you'll still play by _my _rules, Harris."

At Xander's disappointed frown, Gibbs relented. "Alright, as an observer."

Xander's whoop made his ears ring, and he almost changed his mind again.

---

"So how do you say good cop, bad cop in Arabic?" Gibbs asked on their way to interrogating Nasir.

Gamal said dryly, "I learned my Arabic at the defense Language Institute in Monterey. That phrase wasn't in the syllabus. Nasir should be here in about five minutes."

"Tayyib shorta, mosh bikair shorta," Xander muttered under his breath, and Gibbs whirled around when he caught it.

"You _know_ Arabic, Harris?"

Kate's eyebrows shot up. "It's not in your resumé," she said, then almost covered her mouth when Gibbs shot her a dark look.

Xander shook his head. "Just picked up a phrase or two."

"This isn't over, Harris," Gibbs threatened him. "Kate, watch his body language. And make sure Harris here shuts up, alright?"

Xander made a zipping motion over his mouth, before Kate dragged him into the adjacent room.

---

It went as Kate expected, with Gibbs playing hardball with Nasir. She watched the prisoner carefully, standing at an angle to see his eyes, though she knew Gibbs would likely pick up more from direct eye contact. She noted the inflections of the other man, the way his mouth turned sullen and his eyes drilled into Gibbs' and his hands clenched while remaining shackled.

Xander spent more time watching Kate watch Nasir than Nasir himself, though he caught himself admiring Gibbs' technique. He'd never interrogated anyone. Willy didn't count, since the bar owner usually responded more to threats of Slayer than anything else. And everyone expected him to talk eventually.

After the prisoner was taken out, he stepped back and folded his arms. "So Agent Todd, how'd you get a copy of my resumé?"

Kate opened her mouth and could not say a thing.

---

"Sorry, Paula," Tony said, as he took the keys to check out her apartment. Kate took Sa'id's keys as well.

Xander leaned back against the counter, staying out of the way as Gibbs opened the letters they had found in Sa'id's suitcase.

"So why is Special Agent DiNozzo sorry?" Gibbs asked her.

"He blew his chances of getting laid," she answered flippantly.

Xander opened his mouth to argue, but thought better of it. Tony wasn't there to take offense. "I'm sorry, too," he murmured to her. It must be frustrating to be viewed as the bad guy by people in your own agency. "If it makes you feel any better, Gibbs here is investigating me as well," he said.

"So what, he's just paranoid?" She asked sarcastically.

"I have good reason," Gibbs said, looking at both of them. "You'd do the same thing in my position and you know it, Cassidy."

"You have good reason for investigating him, too?" She asked, suddenly reevaluating the too-young man in Gibbs' team.

"Oh, very good reason," Xander assured her. "After all, he needs to be able to trust me to be in his team, right?"

"If you know the reason, then why don't you lay out a few facts for me, Harris?" Gibbs challenged him.

"Nothing I say will make you trust me, Agent Gibbs. Trust has to be earned, after all. And it goes both ways," Xander said softly, meeting Gibbs' gaze for a second, before catching Paula's eyes as well. "So it might be awhile before you trust that we are here to help, Agent Cassidy. Even Tony," he added with a smirk.

Paula had relaxed a little by then, nodding at him and smiling when Tony's name was mentioned. "In between flirting and dancing, you mean."

"Perks of the job." Xander laughed.

---

"You still want me to profile him?" Kate asked. "But he already knows—"

"So you shouldn't feel so damn guilty, Kate," Gibbs growled.

"Alright. On one condition," she countered.

"What?"

"I want Tony here, too. He seems to have made friends with Xander quickly, so he might be able to tell you more."

Gibbs gave his consent.

Tony didn't.

"He's not a criminal, Gibbs. Why don't we just trust our own judgment?" They were in one of the empty interrogation rooms at NCIS.

"He was involved in a classified op in his hometown," Kate announced, knowing it would catch Tony's attention. "No details given, but he has a letter of commendation from a high-ranking general, in the Army. And uh, according to his phone records, he has the SecNav's number on speed-dial."

For once, Tony was rendered speechless.

"Which number, one?" Gibbs asked calmly.

"Five," Kate answered. "One's a number in Cleveland, his best friend Willow Rosenberg; two's international, a Rupert Giles in London; three's also international, someone named Dawn Summers-Giles; and four's a number in Sunnydale, registered to someone named Cordelia Chase."

"And they're all more important than the SecNav?" Tony asked incredulously.

"No," Xander's voice emanated from the speakers. "They're _family_, Tony. Mind if I join in this conversation?"

Gibbs looked torn between anger and a touch of remorse. "Sure, come on in. But only if you're prepared to be interrogated, Harris."

"Well, I might pick up tips on your technique," Xander said, this time from the doorway. "I had the video and sound cut off, though. You understand, right Gibbs?"

"Perfectly," Gibbs answered then pulled out a chair. "Now sit down, Harris. You're on the hot seat."

Xander grinned at them, open and amused. He sat down, prepared for the grilling.

---

"I wasn't a Navy SEAL, Tony. But when I was young, I wanted to be. Even researched all the training and stuff, which is probably why I joined NCIS rather than FBI or some other law enforcement." Not for the first time, Xander cursed his slip of the tongue when Tony first interrogated him.

"Oh, yeah?" Tony said. "Prove it."

"Prove what?" Xander asked exasperatedly.

"Go one on one with Gibbs," Tony said smugly. "That way, we can see your skills, too. Which we'd need to know if we're out on the field, right boss?"

"I have all my results," Xander weakly protested, indicating the stack of paperwork in his file. "I went through the basic tests."

"Rule number three, don't believe what you're told. Always double-check," Gibbs said.

Xander frowned. "So how many rules are there, anyway?"

"Fifty thereabouts," Tony answered.

"Really? I only have one," Xander said.

"And what's that?" Kate asked.

"Don't die."

---

A/N: Longer than I thought it would be, and going in a completely unpredictable direction. And no, Xander will not be telling them about the supernatural. Not yet, anyway.


	4. Chapter 4

Special Agent Harris, NCIS  
Fojee

Chapter Three: A Fighting Chance

Immediately follows previous chapter:

"_I wasn't a Navy SEAL, Tony. But when I was young, I wanted to be. Even researched all the training and stuff, which is probably why I joined NCIS rather than FBI or some other law enforcement." Not for the first time, Xander cursed his slip of the tongue when Tony first interrogated him._

"_Oh, yeah?" Tony said. "Prove it."_

"_Prove what?" Xander asked exasperatedly._

"_Go one on one with Gibbs," Tony said smugly. "That way, we can see your skills, too. Which we'd need to know if we're out on the field, right boss?"_

"_I have all my results," Xander weakly protested, indicating the stack of paperwork in his file. "I went through the basic tests."_

"_Rule number three, don't believe what you're told. Always double-check," Gibbs said._

_Xander frowned. "So how many rules are there, anyway?"_

"_Fifty thereabouts," Tony answered._

"_Really? I only have one," Xander said._

"_And what's that?" Kate asked._

"_Don't die."_

---

"Don't die? How stupid a rule is that?" Tony asked derisively.

"I think it sounds pithy," Kate said. "Definitely something you'd crochet on a pillow." She shared a chuckle with Gibbs. They were still in the interrogation room, standing around Harris.

"It's funny only until someone breaks it," Xander answered solemnly.

His three teammates shared a glance. "Someone you knew?" Gibbs asked.

Xander laughed, but it was slightly mad. "Where do I start?"

"You sound like a vet, Harris." It was Tony who spoke. He was still convinced Xander was not telling him the complete truth about being a civilian.

"You know, despite the iguana thing Tony, I'm not very fond of animals." _Except when I was one_, he thought, suddenly having a flashback of eating a squealing pig in sophomore year. "So I've never been and never will be a veterinarian."

Gibbs' headslap brought him back to the present. "_War_ veteran, Harris." He leaned towards Xander and spoke in a hard voice. "Where did you serve?"

"So—" Then Xander looked at Gibbs and slowly enunciated. "Sunnydale. My hometown's pretty dangerous. Gangs on PCP and that sort of thing."

When Gibbs looked like he wanted to wring Xander's neck, he protested. "It's the truth, Gibbs."

"And what was the lie?" Gibbs asked softly.

"Somalia," Xander answered reluctantly. "But we both know I'm far too young to have served there."

"Oh, have you watched 'Black Hawk Down?' That scene with Ewan McGregor—" Tony asked.

"Shut up, Tony." All three people in the room retorted.

"So why would you lie first before telling the truth, Harris?" Gibbs asked.

"Because some lies are more believable than the truth," Xander answered with hard eyes. "And sometimes the truth just sounds plain ridiculous, so people prefer the lie."

"We don't," Kate said.

"Well I do," Xander said, leaning back. "A wise philosopher once said, 'the truth shall make ye fret.' Give me the lie, any day."

"We're investigators, Xander. If we don't look for what really happened, we should be quitting our jobs right now." Tony crossed his arms.

"Well the more you practice lying, the better you'll be at spotting someone else's lie," Xander cheerfully answered. "You should know, Tony. You're one of the best liars I've met."

Kate fought the urge to laugh out loud while Gibbs tried not to let his frustration show by changing the subject. "So what languages do you speak, Harris? Your files only list…" He shuffled the papers on the table.

"English and Latin," Kate finished for him. "You took Latin in college?"

"Yup. Twelve units of useless dead language," Xander answered. _Useless except for spells and demon research of course._ "We had an archaeology club in high school; that's where I picked up the Arabic. My vocab sucks, and my accent's atrocious, so it really doesn't count."

"Any other languages that doesn't count?" Gibbs glared at him, as if daring him to lie again.

"Well gee, boss, I don't think we'll ever have any use for phrases of Ancient Sumerian, do we?"

Gibbs gritted his teeth.

---

Xander would like to think that he had triumphed. _Ha_, he'd say. _Gotcha_. Except it was more like someone had to use the room, and so they cut the interrogation short.

Walking back to the bullpen, Tony slung an arm over his shoulder. "Hey, no hard feelings, kid. And don't worry about Gibbs. He's a good guy, really. Maybe if you supply him with copious amounts of coffee, he'll go easier on you."

Xander rolled his eyes.

"I'm serious," Tony said, all wounded innocence. "Sirius Black."

"And I'm Harry Potter: boy with a huge stick," Xander pronounced. They looked at each other, and simultaneously pointed at Kate. "Hermione!" Then they burst out laughing.

"Keep laughing, Xander," Kate said. "While you still can." She smiled at him sweetly.

Xander glared at her. "Thanks a lot, Kate."

When they reached their desks, Gibbs reached for the phone, calling Director Morrow. After he hung up, he motioned Xander to stand. "Gym. Ten minutes."

"Wait! You want to do this now?" Xander asked, horrified.

---

"Look, just go out there and give it a shot. Gibbs won't hurt you _that_ much." Tony pushed him onto the mats.

Xander watched nervously as Gibbs stretched. The other man had changed into a plain shirt and dark jogging pants, as had he. Xander had a really bad feeling about this—not apocalypse-bad, but like Angel loving Buffy kind of bad; it's the anticipation of a world of pain.

Gibbs motioned him closer. He wiped his hands down his dark blue jogging pants. "You know, boss, I bet we could get an instructor to do this. You could observe—"

And Gibbs attacked.

---

McGee was at the gym, trying a little bit of boxing—hoping it would help make him look more intimidating—when he saw it: Special Agent Gibbs fighting hand to hand with a young man. He recognized Alexander Harris from the picture in the file Gibbs had him pull.

He unconsciously walked towards Tony and Kate, watching near the entrance, so he could get a better look.

"Hey, McGee," Kate greeted him, but he barely gave her a passing glance and a nod.

"What's this?" He asked Tony.

"Trial by fire, McGeek," Tony said, shaking his head and patting him on the shoulder.

---

Xander tried to stay on his feet, but Gibbs always managed to hook a leg under his knees, hitting low and hard. Gibbs slammed him down on the mat and whispered in his ear, "Don't hold back, Harris, or I'll break something."

Xander looked up at Gibbs' serious face. "Promise?" He asked, before kicking the older man in the back and hitting his side with a solid right hook. He flipped them so he was on top, getting another couple of hits to Gibbs' jaw before the other man grabbed his right arm, flipping their positions again, and pinning it to the mat. He put his other hand under Xander's jaw.

At the first sign of pressure to his windpipe, Xander's heartbeat accelerated. He instinctively jabbed his elbow up at Gibbs' own neck and scrambled away and up. Gibbs grinned. _Like a wolf_. Xander thought, before he was face down on the mat with his arm behind his back.

---

Tony rubbed his chin. "So what do you think, Kate? Harris a civilian or a soldier?"

Kate threw up her hands. "Can you really tell from such a fight—"

"He doesn't have any military training," McGee told them. He realized his mistake the moment Tony looked at him. "Uh, I mean he didn't look as if—"

"Relax, McGee. I figured Gibbs got the files from you," Kate said, smiling at him reassuringly. "We'll make an agent out of you, yet."

"But I still want to know—" Tony was like a dog with a bone.

"Both." It was Gibbs who answered from a couple of meters away, glaring at his audience before looking at Xander, who was still on his knees gasping for breath. He hauled the other man up by his elbow. "Some of those moves were definitely military standard. But you're not used to them, like you didn't learn them with your body. The rest of the time, you fight like a street thug, Harris."

"So uh, what does that mean?" Xander asked plaintively. "Do I pass?" Gibbs' words had hit too damn close to home.

Gibbs grunted, rubbing his neck where he received the younger man's elbow. "It means you'll do, Harris," he growled. "Until I say otherwise."

McGee felt jealousy stab him low in the gut. The guy must be more than five years his junior, but he was already a member of the best response team in the whole NCIS. McGee's expression must have given him away, because Agent Harris caught his eye.

"Don't worry, Agent McGee. Someday, you too, will feel the wrath of Kahn."

McGee couldn't help giggling.

"Harris!" Tony exclaimed. "You never told me you were a geek!"

---

After that, Xander Harris was introduced to the glamorous world of bagging and tagging, of lasering and sketching, of taking witness statements, and breaking bad news to distraught loved ones.

"Still here, Harris?" Abby asked him snidely one evening, after he had brought a box of evidence from the victim's house.

"Look," Xander said, exasperated. "I have nothing against your kind—"

Abby crossed her arms over her black shirt with _bite me_ written in red script. "And what _kind_ is that, Harris?" With her plaid skirt, white knee socks and high pigtails, she looked like she belonged inside a school, instead of a forensic lab.

"Uh, the highly intelligent and quirky kind," Xander babbled. "I'm just saying you know, me big foot, insert mouth, or is that big mouth, insert foot?"

Abby laughed in spite of herself. Xander let the sound—like water over gravel—rush over him. "You're kinda funny, Harris, so I'll give you a tip." She leaned forward, making Xander lean back against the table. Scary woman alert. "Be careful of unidentified foreign objects on your computer screen. You don't want your files all gobbled up by a Trojan bear, do you?"

Xander opened his mouth but could only manage a squeak.

"Now shoo. Tell Gibbs I'll call when I have something." She turned away, her white lab coat billowing around her. Xander had a mini-flashback of Spike's duster—and why was he thinking about that anyway? He babbled an excuse and fled.

When he got back to his desk, he stared at the screen. What did she say about a bear? A pop-up window appeared. It was Abby's death threat. _I can kill you without leaving any forensic evidence, Harris._ It announced.

Xander picked up the phone and dialed McGee over at Norfolk. "Hey man, it's Harris. I need a favor."

---

"Tony said you were the go-to guy when it comes to computer stuff." Xander was unashamedly trying to butter McGee up. "See a certain Goth has placed this virus on my computer, and I need to back up my files before the Pac-man chomps it all down."

"_Abby_ did this?" McGee frowned, typing a line of code into the system. _But Abby was the sweetest, sexiest, most intelligent…_

"She hates me," Xander said, breaking into his thoughts. "Well, she _used_ to, anyway. But though she warned me this time, I doubt this is the end of it. She seems to have a well-developed sense of vengeance." He spared a moment to think about Anya. _Oh, what D'Hoffryn could accomplish with an employee like Abby… _

"That's too bad, kid," Tony said, catching the tail-end of their conversation. "Because if you _really_ want to get on Gibbs' good side, you need the Abby seal of approval."

"At this point, I'll settle for a truce, with both sides disarming their extensive arsenal."

Tony laughed. "You know what? Just let me handle it." At Xander's look of skepticism, he added. "Trust me, Harris. I got your back."

"To give me wedgies, maybe," Xander muttered. McGee heard him and had to put his head between his knees so he could stop laughing and _breathe_.

"Harris, you broke the nerd," Tony accused him.

---

Abby was sitting at a bench at the bowling alley, dressed in a powder blue poodle skirt and a pink twinset with a skull stitched on the back. Her hair was up in a high ponytail, and she wore cat's eye glasses. She was on the phone, leaving a message. "Where are you? The game's starting and you promised you'd stand in for Sister Elena." Then she saw someone standing by the door. "Tony, I will kill you."

Xander Harris stood carrying his bowling shoes and ball in a battered duffel bag. He did a double-take when he spotted Abby in her 50s get-up, and could practically see the storm clouds forming above her head. He waved at her uncertainly, eyeing the nuns that surrounded her. They were wearing the same outfit, but had matching pink wimples.

"Hi!" He said, after he got within spitting distance. "Tony said…"

Abby smacked his arm. Hard. "You better be good, mister. Or I'll take a picture of your crime scene and place it on my wall. Now put this on."

Xander saw the pink jacket in her hand and backed away.

"If you leave now, I'll sic Gibbs onto you," Abby said, smiling sweetly. "Or I could force you into a poodle skirt and take pictures for posterity."

"Uh, no this is fine." He snatched the jacket and pulled it on. "So how about some introductions?"

And he was introduced to the bowling nuns of St. Clarissa.

---

They won.

It was quite close. Xander managed to string three strikes at the last run, giving them the edge they needed to win the game. As soon as all ten pins fell, Abby jumped into his arms, kissing him long and deep, while the sisters hooted and twittered.

Xander just held on, completely gobsmacked. Abby ended the kiss, and looked him in the eye. "You the man, Xander Harris." Then she kissed his nose, and turned around to give Sister Rosita a high five.

---

The nuns waved goodbye before piling into their van and heading back to St. Clarissa. They'd be playing the next round the following week, and he had promised to sub for Sister Elena again while her ankle was still healing.

Xander watched them bemusedly. Abby tugged his arm to get his attention.

"I'll take you home, Xander." She opened the side door of her red Ford Coupe, glaring at him when he hesitated. "You have a problem with that?"

"No," Xander assured her. "Not at all." He barely squeezed in, holding his duffel bag in his arms. He gave her directions to his place, and spent the whole time trying not to stare.

"So your outfit…"

"Was not _my_ idea," she finished for him. "And I suppose you think it's better than my typical, all-black ensembles?" She asked him archly.

Xander gauged her mood and answered cautiously. "I think you look good in anything, Abs. And I really didn't mean anything by what I said…"

Abby abruptly stopped the car, making Xander yelp in surprise. "Yes, I sleep in a coffin. Are you happy now?" She glared at him challengingly.

Xander smiled nervously, clearing his throat. "Well as long as you stay away from an all-liquid diet, I really don't…"

"I hate it when men tell me what to do!" She burst out, smacking her steering wheel with one hand before turning to him again. "And what do you mean by an all-liquid diet?"

"Look," Xander tried to placate her. "Tony told me to come bearing gifts, so I bought you something."

"Really?" Abby's eyebrows rose. "Gimme." She held out a hand.

Xander shook his head and took out a box from the bottom of his bag. "I'd like you to wear it whenever you go clubbing or something."

She grabbed it from him and opened it, gasping when she saw what was nestled against the velvet. It was a cross pendant, made of heavy silver with a turquoise heart in the middle.

"It has a hook you can attack to your collars, see?" Xander pointed it out. "Just hold onto it; it might protect you."

"Didn't peg you for a Catholic," she said, tilting her head and measuring him with her eyes. "Besides I already have a giant cross tattooed on my back, so it's all good. The force is with me always."

Xander smiled, his relief evident on his face. "Great. And no, I'm not a Catholic. I'm sort of a mix. Grew up half-Episcopalian, half-Jew and ended as a pagan."

She frowned at him. "Do you play with voodoo dolls?"

"Uh, I stole my friend's Barbie once. We were five," he explained. "Where did that come from?"

"Well it's considered a form of witchcraft," she said. "I don't believe in it, of course. But I have some dolls of certain loathed personages with pins in sensitive places."

He winced instinctively. "Like who?"

"Osama bin Laden for one," she said. "So where do you live again?"

"At the next right," Xander replied. She started the car and followed his directions, stopping right in front of his apartment complex. He got out, but was surprised when she followed suit.

"You _live_ here?" Abby asked, standing beside him on the sidewalk. "It looks like someone will tear it down any day now. How's the roach population?"

Xander looked up at the derelict building with a sigh. The walls looked slimy and mossy, covered in soot and grime, and the windows were painted over. It also housed a lot more than roaches and rats. His next-door neighbor was a candy-addicted Treika'n demon, harmless unless provoked. The other occupants were similarly afflicted, though they could pass for human if they tried.

"I like to live dangerously," he said with a shrug. "Plus the rent's cheap and the market's nearby."

"Why? Doesn't NCIS pay you enough?" She asked with her hands on her hips. "Coz my salary is like, totally up there."

He laughed. "I'm still paying off my student loan. It's not that bad, really. The locks are good, and everything works. Most of the time. And my place is about as big as a penthouse suite."

Abby sniffed to show she wasn't buying a word of it. But she kissed him one last time on the cheek and got back in her car. "Thanks for the cross, Xander Harris," she called out to him before she left. "It's way better than Caff-Pow."

Xander smiled, genuinely and openly. It was nice to be forgiven.

He took out his key, running his thumb absently onto the rune etched onto its surface. He walked through the door, then down a flight of stairs into the basement, where his 'suite' was located. He whispered a word while turning the key in the lock. It clicked open, and there was a familiar scent of sage in the air as he passed through his wards. He dropped his duffel bag by the door and collapsed on the sofa. Home sweet home.

One unpainted brick wall was covered in the faces of the dead—Buffy and Joyce, Jenny Calendar, Jesse, Larry and the others who didn't make it past graduation—mixed with the living—Dawn and Giles in England, Willow and Tara in a coffee shop in Cleveland, Cordelia in a shiny dress, Wesley holding Angel's baby, Faith with a sword, Riley and Sam covered in demon gunk and surrounded by jungle. There was even a photograph of Anya tucked in somewhere.

Someday, he will add pictures of Tony and Kate glaring at each other, of Gibbs with a cup of coffee, of Ducky in his bowtie, and of Abby in all her Goth glory, maybe giving him the finger or something. Xander imagined how it will look and smiled. Someday.

A/N: "The truth shall make you fret" is from Terry Pratchett. Sorry about the fight scenes; I know I suck at them. And I know zilch about bowling. The make-up scene with Abby should have ended at _they won_, but Abby likes the spotlight and she wanted to see where Xander lived. And no, it won't be a Xander/Abby ship. Abby's not promiscuous per se, but she's pretty free about showing affection.

The Treika'n demon is from my imagination; we'll see what he looks like after I've figured it out myself. Hope you like!


	5. Chapter 5

Special Agent Harris, NCIS

Fojee

Chapter Four: Boy Next Door

Post-"Eye Spy" 1x11, containing references to "My Other Left Foot" 1x12.

A/N: Thanks to the awesome ideas/useful criticism from Neverwill, djhardim and mithrilandtj, and everyone else who reviewed. Seriously, you guys are the reason I've been updating so quickly. Talk about positive reinforcement.

Feeling the bonds of language

coming apart in my throat and loins,

I cease attending

to my sacred obligations:

barking, and the gnashing of teeth.

Taha Muhammad Ali

_from_ "Postoperative Complications Following the Extraction of Memory"

Translated from the Arabic by Peter Cole, Yahya Hijazi and Gabriel Levin

---

"Your computer's fine, Xander," McGee told him, scanning the screen one last time. It took him awhile to unravel the code. "Abby's pop-up wasn't detected by the antivir because she designed it to blend in. It had an embedded program, with a timed trigger set to black out your screen and make you _think_ it was crashing. But that's all. I just need to separate the code parameters…"

"So no munchy-munchies on my files?" Xander asked. He was sitting at the edge of Tony's table. "I guess Abby doesn't hate me after all."

McGee stopped typing. "Are you _dating_ Abby?"

Xander let out a sharp burst of laughter that ended uncertainly. "No, McGee I'm not. I-I mean I kissed her, or really she kissed me, but it was uh, heat of the moment, you know, the moment of triumph. I'm sure it meant nothing, right?" He looked at McGee as if he held the answers.

"_Abby_ kissed you?" Tony asked from behind them. He was holding coffees on a tray and a bag of donuts.

"Well Abby is pretty affectionate, you know. If she did like you, she'd tell you," McGee answered, swallowing the jealousy down. "You could ask her on a date; see what she says."

"Abby _kissed_ you?" Tony asked again.

"Well what if I don't want her to, but she wants me to, and if I don't ask her, she'll get mad again?" Xander asked. "Girls are complicated. I think I like it better when she hated my guts. So you done?"

McGee nodded. "Yup. Updated your antivir, too. And cleaned up your cookies." He stood up, getting his gear together. "I gotta head back to Norfolk."

"I'll walk you to your car. I owe you one for this, McGee." Xander snagged a coffee from the tray Tony was holding. "Thanks, Tony," he mumbled as he passed.

Tony watched them leave. "Abby kissed _you_?" He called out.

---

"You were the one who pulled my files, weren't you?" Xander asked while they were in the elevator, sipping his mocha latte.

McGee stuttered out, "D-did Kate…"

"Oh no," Xander denied with a gesture and almost spilled his coffee down his suit. "I figured it out. Tony said you had a degree in computer forensics, and everybody calls you when they need something. You should have your own desk by now."

McGee's face lit up at the idea.

Xander leaned close to the case agent, who leaned back against the wall. "So what'd you find, Agent McGee?" His smile was pleasant, but his eyes were hard.

McGee gulped.

---

"T-there was something hinky about your hometown: Sunnydale, California. I visited the online newspaper, there were half a dozen articles reporting unexplained deaths, pages of photographs of missing people, and a lot of entries in the obituaries which mentioned about thirteen different cemeteries and five or six churches. The data's a little unusual, and doesn't match up with the statistics on the official website."

"Party line, McGee," Xander explained, smiling sadly. "It's a dangerous town. I barely made it out of there alive."

"But who would cover up…"

"Police force was rife with corruption, and the former mayor was in on it," Xander continued. They were in the garage by then, sitting inside McGee's car. "So you didn't put any of this in the docs you gave Gibbs?"

"No," McGee answered. "Just your high school and college transcripts, your uh, medical records and your government file, which was uh, all blacked out."

Xander cursed vividly and imaginatively. In Klingon.

McGee blinked. "Why's that a bad thing?"

"They didn't get a chance to ask me about the blacked out file," Xander muttered to himself. "Kate read it, and Tony didn't. But you gave it to Gibbs, so he must have read it, too."

"Xander," the other man interrupted. "What are you trying to hide?"

Xander looked at him. "What else did you find hinky, McGee?"

McGee wrinkled his nose while he was thinking. Then he added softly as it dawned on him, "You had too many injuries, dating back to elementary."

Xander winced. _Bingo_.

"And your grades weren't high enough for you to be eligible for a scholarship, but there's no record of you getting a student loan," the agent added.

"A friend loaned me the money," Xander explained.

"That's a pretty big loan. Where did you find a friend who can afford it?"

"You know, the team already interrogated me, McGee." Xander smiled at him to take the sting out of his words.

"But you said they didn't ask you about the blacked out file," McGee countered.

Xander laughed. "You should show that spine around Gibbs. I'm sure he'll appreciate it."

"Stop evading me, Xander," the case agent said softly, trying not to let the compliment distract him.

"What was the question again?" Xander looked at him with raised eyebrows. "I'll answer one for you, McGee. But only one."

McGee had to think about it. "What's in the blacked out file?"

"I don't know. I never read it," Xander said flippantly, opening the door and stepping out. "Didn't even know I had a file til you said so."

"That's not fair, Xander," McGee protested.

"Even if I knew what's in it, info's need to know, McGee. I don't have the authority to tell you a damn word."

"Then just one more question," McGee called out.

Xander sighed. "Fine."

McGee vacillated for a moment before blurting out. "Why did Abby kiss you?"

Xander laughed. The infectious sound echoed in the garage.

---

It was Saturday and Xander Harris woke up alone. He was used to it by now. He stretched, wiggling his toes and letting out a bone-deep groan of utter contentment at the idea that he had the whole day to himself. Then somebody knocked.

Groaning for a completely different reason, Xander stumbled out of bed, hand automatically reaching for the sword on the wall, hanging just above his bedside table. It had been Buffy's. Barefoot, in panda pjs, he walked to the door, cautiously sliding the panel that served as peep-hole. It was Kobal.

Kobal was the Treika'n who lived right across the hall. By the looks of him—his nostrils were so dilated they were like blackholes on his face, and he was scratching his scaly neck—he had run out of his stash. Xander grabbed a bag of peppermints from his kitchen table and opened the door a crack.

"What's up, Bal?" He asked. "Everything okay?"

"Just need me some sugar, dude. I be a little stressed last night at Petrovich's so I munched through my caramels like a whirlwind eats a cow. You got some on you?"

Xander handed over the paper bag of mints. "You better run down to the market, Kobal. These won't last you for long."

"Thanks, man. I owe you," Kobal said, already dipping in a scabby hand and popping a candy in his mouth.

"So what happened? Any fights?" The Treika'n was a bartender at a posh demon bar called Petrovich's, about a couple of blocks away from the apartment.

"No. Everybody be on their best behavior, coz we had some VIPs, visiting dignitaries or some wack shit," Kobal complained. "That's why I be so tense, man. I be afraid I'd mix orders up and cause some mad inter-D incident."

"But you didn't," Xander said. "Right? No raining down of hellfire and brimstone because the Bloody Mary wasn't bloody enough?"

"Yeah. All they be wanting was some sake anyway," Kobal said, shrugging. He held up the bag and smiled, showing off his diamond dentures. "Thanks for the sugar. You be a lifesaver."

Knowing what Kobal would like to do with a lifesaver, Xander wasn't reassured, but he smiled weakly and waved him off.

---

Saturday was laundry day, so Xander bundled up his whites and his coloreds in a couple of gym bags and headed for the Laundromat down the street, his pocket jingling with coins. By the time he came back, the sun was up—barely—and so were the other residents in his building.

He opened the front door to let Jade, hand in hand with her twin sister Mira, pass through. They were in gym wear, likely headed for a run. The two were Odan Tals, refugees from a dimension where they were considered slaves by their male counterparts. Their hooded jackets covered the ridges down their spine, though the ones on either side of their face just made them look exotic.

Xander was on a mission to befriend them, but they had this thing about trusting men, so it was slow-going. He thought Jade was warming up to him, though. A couple of days ago, her Ko—the ridges on her spine—appeared to glow red when he told her she should wear purple more often, as it brought out her eyes.

The two lived on the first floor, along with Arthur Yorn, cabdriver twenty-eight days of the month, werewolf on the other three. His daughter Trixie lived with him, and whenever he had to lock himself up in a cage and go hairy, another resident would look after the nine year old girl. Xander wished he'd be able to do it more often, but Gibbs and the cases pretty much exhausted his free time. So Penny Jacobs usually took up the slack.

Penny Jacobs—a no-nonsense blonde in her early thirties—owned the building, taking up the top-most space, across from a Kwaini demon named Veronica Par. Penny's father was a lobbyist, and her mother a celebrity lawyer. She, however, was an empath, and worked as a counselor for troubled youths. Her family considered her an embarrassment.

For a landlady, she was pretty cool. The walls, windows and hallways were dirty, and the phone lines had a tendency to malfunction, but there was always hot water, and each unit was spell-protected with a rune key, the same as Xander's. Now if only spells worked half so well on their pest problem.

"I should just get a cat," Xander mumbled to himself. "Or a bug-eating manservant." He winced at his own joke, remembering how funny it felt to swallow down a still-squirming spider. Funny ew, not funny ha-ha. The cat made him think of the late departed Kitty Fantastico, however, so when he got back to his place, he immediately called Willow.

She answered on the first ring. "Yes?"

"Hey pretty lady. What's cooking?" Xander asked into his cellphone, leaning against his own kitchen counter.

"Xander!" Willow exclaimed. "Why haven't you called me? I was getting worried about you, mister."

"You sound like a jealous girlfriend, Wills," Xander said, laughing. "Speaking of girlfriends, how's Tara doing? New job going okay?"

"She's doing great! She's all green thumbs, so they love her there." Tara had started working for a small nursery in Cleveland. "I'm jealous that she gets to be out with plants all day, while I'm stuck in front of the computer," Willow continued babbling. "I'm getting so pale these days. I'm starting to miss the sun."

"Oh you know you love it," Xander teased her. She had joined a top software company, and will probably own it within a couple of years. "You should meet this guy at my work. He's probably as smart as you."

"Is that a hint that you want me to visit?" Willow asked teasingly.

"Uh." Xander was suddenly rendered speechless. "I don't think it's a good time…"

"Relax, Xander," Willow said, laughing. "I'm swamped at work anyway, and weekends are my time with my baby. But I think Dawn's demanding a reunion sometime soon. And we really should check out how Faith's doing."

"I'll get leave for apocalypse season," Xander promised. "So how's the nightlife there?"

"Not too bad. Tara and I only have to patrol about once a week, depending on what's in the obits," Willow said cheerfully. "I did this spell with three wooden stakes spinning in the air like shuriken. My aim needs work, but I managed to dust one."

"That's great! A little scary but great," Xander enthused. He'd prefer it if the witches _didn't_ patrol at all. "If you see or hear anything hinky, you just call me, alright?"

"Hinky?"

Xander choked back a laugh. The NCIS team was rubbing off on him. "You know, wiggy: anything a little more sinister than your garden variety vamp."

"Alright, I'll call, I promise. You take care too, hon," Willow said. "I gotta go."

As soon as he hung up, the phone rang. He answered it automatically. "Yes?"

"Harris, get your ass over here, _now_." It was Gibbs, and he sounded on the brink of homicidal.

"Boss, whe—" The older man hung up.

Xander sighed. So much for Saturdays.

---

"You're in big trouble," Tony said in a sing-song voice as soon as Xander jogged into the bullpen.

"Why? What's wrong?" He asked in between gasps of breath.

"Rule number three: never be unreachable," Kate answered him. "Gibbs couldn't connect to your house, and your cellphone was in use."

"But you told me rule number three was 'don't believe what you're told,'" Xander protested.

"It's a mystery of life, kiddo," Tony said, tapping the side of his face with a palm. "Now gear up. We got a foot in a dumpster out in Clarksburg, West Virginia."

"A foot?" Xander asked incredulously, before reconsidering the possibilities.

Gibbs was walking towards them, dark cloud over his head. It distracted Tony and Kate long enough for Xander to open his bottom desk drawer surreptitiously. Inside was a mini-armory. He had snuck in the weapons one evening. Director Morrow knew about them of course, but no one else. He picked out a ten-inch long dagger covered in leather cloth and a bottle of lye and slid them into his backpack. If there was something out there eating people, he was ready to kick ass.

When he saw the marine's foot leaning by the stair, the first thought that came into his mind: _no teeth marks, so he wasn't eaten. No acid burns, so he wasn't melted. Good._

---

Gibbs chewed him out when they got back to the office. "The next time I can't reach you, Harris. You'll be stuck behind a desk until your probation ends, is that clear?"

"Aye, cap'n," Xander said with a salute. Gibbs thought about headslapping him extra hard, but just shook his head and walked away.

A couple of days later, Xander bought a new cellphone. He called Willow and Cordy and Dawn to give them the new number. "I dub thee my batphone," he quipped as he held it, rubbing a thumb over the screen. "May you serve honorably and well." He stood in his living room, staring at the pictures on his wall, trying to will away the homesickness just below his breastbone.

D.C. was not L.A. About the only thing they had in common was being letters in the alphabet. If some green guy walked around in Los Angeles, people would assume he was in some movie. Demons could not do the same in the country's capital, where there were a lot of government officials paranoid about their safety and the cops were a heck of a lot smarter.

It made Xander's life both easier and harder: easier because there wasn't much of a demon population to keep an eye on and harder because there was a constant influx of tourists—demons who oftentimes weren't interested in blending in. They took pictures, like a hunter with some deer carcass. They collected souvenirs, like politicians' tongues in little globes, or intestinal necklaces and eyeball rings. Or they just want to kill the president of the United States, just so they can brag about it at their next family reunion.

There was a knock on the door, shattering his thoughts like crystal. Xander sighed. It was probably his neighbor, once again borrowing a cup of sugar to tide him through.

---

A/N: Readers seem to be either impatiently waiting or dreading the meld of the supernatural and the ordinary. Let's just say that after Xander's probationary period and before Kate kicks the bucket, the team gets more than a little hint of the secrets Xander keeps. But I'm not sure yet if I will ever let him tell everyone. Gibbs, for sure.

I took some liberties with the ep "My Other Left Foot" as the team wasn't called out on Saturday. Sorry it is just a filler chapter, to tide you over like a single peppermint to a hungry Treika'n demon. I'll do better…

Kwaini demons and Odan Tals exist courtesy of the writers of Angel the Series. Inter-D means inter-dimensional.


	6. Chapter 6

Special Agent Harris, NCIS

Fojee

Chapter Five: Time Flies When you're on Probation

Spoilers and dialogue from "One Shot, One Kill" 1x13, "Bete Noire" 1x16, "UnSEALed" 1x18 and "Missing" 1x20.

---

Two months into his probation, and Xander was still familiarizing himself with the basics of trajectories and profiling, was still perfecting the intricacies of interrogating, and was still learning piecemeal the mysteries that are known as Gibbs' rules.

"DiNozzo," Gibbs barked out, "Where's my bullet?" They were still processing the office of Marine recruiter Gunny Seargent Alvarez.

"Hopefully in this box or the wall behind it." Tony's hand went to his belt but he hesitated and cursed inwardly. "Got your knife on you, boss?"

"Rule number nine, DiNozzo," Gibbs growled out. "Never go anywhere…"

"Without a knife," Kate finished. "How about you, Xander?" She asked the young man sketching the scene.

Xander brought out a set of three slim knives linked by a piece of cord. "Take your pick."

Gibbs snatches them from his hand. "What's this?"

"Silver, bronze, steel. The handles are ash, holly and teak. They were a gift from a friend."

Gibbs ran a thumb over the carvings on the wood handles. "Why silver? It's not strong enough to open a can of peas, Harris, much less hold an edge." He handed them to Tony afterwards.

"Depends what you need it for." Xander did not say anything about the stake in his jacket or the throwing knife in his boot.

"Really? What do you need them for, anyway?" Kate asked. "Bring your own silverware events at restaurants?"

"I'm a pagan. They're for oogly-boogly rituals," Xander quipped, making Kate stare.

Tony shrugged. "Whatever works," he said, picking and using the steel knife to enlarge the hole in the wall. "It went straight through the sheet rock into what looks like some kind of toy warehouse, boss."

"Don't come back without my bullet," Gibbs ordered before stalking off.

Tony handed the knives back to Xander who tucked it back in the inner pocket of his jacket, beside a flask of holy water. So he was overarmed for the job; still better than dead.

---

Three months and he was terrified for his team. It was like watching his worst nightmare come to life.

Granted, there were no clowns; just Kate and Ducky and his assistant Gerald trapped in autopsy with a terrorist who looked a whole lot like Dracula with a tan and a gun. Xander and Tony exchanged glances. Both men had their guns out and wearing Kevlar vests, standing by, getting ready to storm the castle keep.

And then Gerald, Ducky's assistant, got shot in the shoulder. And then _Gibbs_ got shot, too, which scared him more than anything else. And then that sonofabitch Dracula-wannabe escaped.

---

"Why didn't you kill him?" Xander looked like he'd like to wring her neck. "I know what you're capable of, Kate. Why didn't you fight back? If he had killed Gibbs—"

"Because he has kind eyes!" She finally shouted, just to shut him up. "He looked at me, and I just couldn't do it." Her voice trailed off as she admitted what happened. She had had a chance to grab a surgical knife from Ducky's tray, but allowed herself to be caught and disarmed. "I couldn't do it."

Xander looked back at her, making her feel like she was fifteen again, caught kissing some boy by a nun. "Kate, some predators look like saints right before they tear your throat out. Remember the rule: don't die. And maybe we should add a new one: don't get anyone else killed."

Kate was torn between the guilt and the anger. It was awhile before she could look Xander in the eye.

---

Four months and he was trying to juggle his myriad lives, and occasionally failing.

"It's three o'clock in the morning; you hear a strange noise in your house. What do you do?" Tony asked them in the elevator.

"I slide a pistol from under my pillow and I go after the guy," answered Kate.

"You, Harris?" Tony looked over at Xander, who looked dead on his feet. He had spent the night fighting a half dozen howler demons. His eardrums may never be the same again.

"Sword on wall," Xander croaked out. "Or dagger on my headboard."

Kate and Tony looked at each other. "You always fight so low-tech, Harris?"

Xander blinked at them. "Uh, what was the question again?"

Gibbs chose that moment to come in. "What do you guys know about last night?"

Kate answered promptly, "The fugitive is a former SEAL named Jack Curtin. He somehow managed to escape from Leavenworth and nobody seems to know how."

Tony continued, "We do know he broke into a house at zero three forty and scared the hell out of two civilians before stealing the guy's clothes."

Xander yawned, and got headslapped for his inattention. "Get yourself some coffee, Harris, before you tip over," Gibbs growled out. "You two, get me everything on Curtain… from birth to last night."

"On it, boss."

---

Tony read out from the files in his hand. "Petty Officer First Class Jack Curtain… he's hardcore, boss. Grew up in foster homes. Enlisted at seventeen. Went from boot camp to BUDs, which is unusual. Went through hell in Afghanistan, which apparently isn't. His entire SEAL team showed up at his trial as character witnesses."

Xander looked at the service record picture of Jack Curtain and his thoughts were far away, to that Halloween night eight years ago when he assumed the identity of another Navy SEAL. For months afterwards, he had had nightmares—war flashbacks of Somalia—surrounded by enemy fire and dying teammates.

"What if he's innocent?" He asked Gibbs.

"Like in 'The Fugitive?'" Tony asked.

"Feeling a sense of kinship, Harris?" Gibbs threw back at him, ignoring Tony's movie reference.

Xander looked at Gibbs, but for once, the former marine could not read the young man's closed face. "Something like that," he answered.

---

Five months after he started and he had finally added the team's pictures to his wall. Including one with him beside Abby and the nuns, holding a bowling trophy.

"Admit it, you were worried about me. Right? You don't have to say anything. I know. Okay, I want you to say it. You care, right?" Tony was like a dog begging for treats.

Xander shook his head, laughing. But he was leaning against the elevator weak-kneed with relief. When Tony went missing from the bar, he had felt the same rage and helplessness as when Dawn got kidnapped, or Willow got hurt. He hadn't been the one to shoot Vanessa. He was on their six, checking for possible accomplices as they walked through the sewer. He didn't know if he should be grateful or sorry.

When he had started at NCIS, he was worried about it. He was worried that he wouldn't be able to kill another human being, like Giles had killed Ben just before Buffy jumped from the tower. But after he saw the pictures of Corporal Mark Cohen starving to death in a sewer, he wasn't worried anymore. He would kill anyone or anything that hurt his family.

"Tony, as far as I'm concerned, you're irreplaceable." Gibbs patted Tony's cheek, making his senior field agent smile like it was Christmas.

Xander looked over at Kate with surprise, while she raised both eyebrows and shrugged. He wasn't used to Gibbs being so touchy-feely. Of course, the older man had looked practically homicidal when he found out Tony was missing. It made Xander feel a little compassion towards his bear of a boss.

Which was snuffed out when Gibbs added, "Forget about it, McGee. He's still alive." The case agent was currently sitting at Tony's desk.

Kate rolled her eyes. _Men_.

Xander looked at the joy drain from Tony's face as the older man's eyes narrowed in McGee's direction. He then looked at the misapprehension and confusion on McGee's. _This is _so _not of the good_.

---

Before Xander knew it, he was at NCIS for five and a half months. The end was nigh.

"Gear up," Gibbs ordered them.

The words still made Xander feel like he stepped on a live wire. He jumped up and grabbed his backpack, then jogged after Tony and Kate, barely making it to the elevator before the doors closed.

"Where to, boss?" Xander asked.

"Campbell's Motel on Peabody Street. Dead marine," Gibbs answered tersely.

---

Xander walked carefully at the motel room, trying not to smudge evidence. The task was made particularly difficult by the broken glass and blood drops scattered on the floor.

"Some of these may be our suspect's," Tony was saying. He was crouched down, taking samples, while Kate was sketching the scene.

Gibbs nodded. "Sit-rep?" He asked the metro cop who called it in.

"Manager heard a disturbance. Called us in when he saw a man stagger out, covered in blood. He said the guy was the one who checked in, by the name of Gordon—"

"—Randall, former Navy SEAL," Xander finished, staring at one shattered picture frame by the bed.

"Anything else you'd like to add, Harris?"

Xander turned to Gibbs. "He was Team 3, based in Coronado. A bit far from home, but I think I know the reason why."

Tony exchanged a look with Kate, both of them clueless.

"The reason, Harris?" Gibbs prompted. There was a strange expression on his face.

"Ten years ago, Randall served in Somalia, right until good ol' US of A pulled out all military personnel. When he came home, his wife had run off with their kid. There was another guy, a marine. Probably our dead captain over there." He indicated the body of a large man, still in his uniform.

"And how would you know all this? Randall a friend of yours?"

Xander looked his boss in the eye. "Never met him before in my life, Gibbs. And he doesn't know me either. But I recognized his picture." He indicated the photograph amongst the debris of a smiling sandy-haired man, his arms around a young redhead, holding a little girl in her lap.

Gibbs had a flashback of Kelly, of coming home and finding that his whole family was gone.

"As for the rest of it, boss. Can't really explain," Xander finished sheepishly.

"Since you seem to know Randall so well, what'd he do after the wife left?" Tony asked as his curiosity got the better of him.

"He quit the Navy, and he took to drinking the devil's brew. Uh, he became an alcoholic," he explained to an exasperated Gibbs. "He balled up his uniform one day and threw it in some donation bin. I sort of lost track of him afterwards. I mean, I can give you his home address but last time I checked, that was in California."

"So he comes here to look for his wife," Kate said thoughtfully, trying to process the information and build a profile.

"You're lead on this, Harris," Gibbs said gruffly.

Tony was the first to protest, though Kate's lungs did get a work-out. "He's much too inexperienced to handle his own case, boss." "You haven't even let _me_ lead a case, Gibbs."

Xander tried to get them to calm down, when Gibbs whistled. "This wasn't a debate, people. Harris knows more about this guy than all of us put together. And Harris, your probation is up in a couple of weeks. Let's just call this your final exam."

Xander gulped, but could only nod.

---

They examined the scene and aside from a couple of suits hanging in the closet, and an empty revolver shoved inside a duffel bag beneath dirty laundry, Xander found an AA chip that declared Randall to be sober for two years.

The body belonged to one Captain Trent Hill, according to the ID in his wallet. Ducky's preliminary time of death was consistent with the time the manager noticed Randall leaving.

"What about cause of death, Ducky?" Xander asked the ME.

"I wouldn't be able to confirm anything until Captain Hill is on my table, Alexander. But his knuckles are split and the injuries on his face are consistent with a pugilist who have gone through a particularly vicious bout."

"Well from what this place looked like, I'm sure they had an all-out brawl," Tony added.

"Indeed," Ducky agreed. "Other than those, however, he looks to be a healthy young man. There aren't any indications of blunt force trauma to his head, although the x-rays might say otherwise. I'm going to have to keep my cards close on this one, Jethro. For now, anyway." He looked at the team leader, who merely nodded.

Ducky and his new assistant, Jimmy Palmer, removed the body for transport and headed back to the office.

Xander suppressed a moment of panic when Gibbs looked at him with crossed arms, clearly expecting him to give orders.

"Well we have to find Randall first." He raised the chip, now bagged and tagged, showing it to the rest of the team. "Guess he might be sober now, but I think we're going to have to check anyway, in case he falls off the wagon. The manager said he was driving a truck. Tony, could you put a BOLO out and then look around at the local bars? He uh, likes them dank and dark, cave-like." He looked at the senior field agent, trying not to look like he was begging.

Tony smirked, but merely nodded.

"Kate, could you check the hospitals. He might be injured. Use his service record photo. His service number is 817-66-9148."

Kate was already on her blackberry, pulling up files. "No problem, Xander." He could hear the sarcasm in her tone however, like a snake's promise of venom.

"And what do I do?" Gibbs asked. His face was carefully blank.

Xander looked at his boss uncertainly. "I'm heading to his ex-wife's place, which is probably the same address as our departed captain's. Wanna come with?"

Gibbs shrugged. "Sure, _boss._"

Xander cringed.

---

A/N: I apologize if the drabbles are confusing, and does not form a coherent storyline. Their purpose is to show Xander in the context of several episodes in the canon. As for comparing Ari Haswari, the terrorist in "Bete Noire" to Dracula, they happen to be the same actor, Rudolf Martin. I might use that somehow…

For those who didn't get the reference: yes, Gordon Randall was the soldier that Xander _became_ that Halloween night. That part is the only non-canon case in the bunch. The timeline for the canonical episodes is invented though.

As for the ending of the clip from "Missing," when Xander reacts to Tony looking at McGee, I just wanted to give a reason why Tony ribs and annoys McGee so much more compared to Xander.

And there were some continuity errors regarding Palmer... I gotta go back and fix it one of these days.


	7. Chapter 7

Special Agent Harris, NCIS

Fojee

Chapter Six: Head Case

"You don't lead by hitting people over the head—that's assault, not leadership."  
-General Dwight D. Eisenhower

Pamela Hill, formerly Pamela Randall, was still a redhead, though Xander would bet his life savings that her copper locks was enhanced by dye these days. She looked thinner and more fragile than he remembered; her eyes were lined and her skin papery thin. But she was still gorgeous.

When their eyes met, right after he rang their doorbell, his heart leapt in his throat. For that moment, he _was_ Gordon, and all the love and resentment surged from his gut and stopped him in his tracks. But Gibbs' unsubtle throat-clearing brought him back. _Pull yourself together, Xander_. He chastised himself.

"Mrs. Hill?" He squeaked out, before clearing his own throat. "Special Agent Harris, NCIS. And this is Special Agent Gibbs." He introduced his boss, who smiled politely, letting him take the lead. "I'm afraid we have some bad news about your husband, Captain Trent Hill."

Pamela paled right on cue, but as she brought up her hands to cover her face, the gesture seemed a little forced. "Oh my God. He's dead, isn't he?"

Xander kept his face between sympathetic and distant, and merely gestured at the open door. "Maybe we could take this inside?"

Pamela invited them in absently, waving to the living room. "Please sit down. I-I should get you some refreshments." She went to the kitchen and prepared everything as if on automatic.

"You don't seem too surprised," Gibbs commented when they were all seated, cups of coffee in front of them.

Pamela bit her lip but didn't say anything.

"Did you know your ex was in town?" Xander asked gently, but carefully watching her expression.

Pamela nodded slowly, a little more composed. "Gordon started calling me a few days ago. He said he was sober now, and he wanted to see Aimee before she graduates high school. I told him to leave us alone, but he wouldn't take no for an answer."

"Did you file a restraining order on him?" Gibbs asked. For some reason, she made him think of his ex-wives, and not just Shannon either.

She shook her head. "I didn't want to make a big fuss. But Trent found out last night, and he said he'd take care of it."

"He knew where Gordon was staying?"

"I-I told him," Pamela confessed tearfully. "It was my fault."

_Fake tears_. Gibbs immediately thought, but did not speak up, allowing Harris to handle the rest of the interview.

Xander could sense something was off with her, but he still couldn't deal with a woman's tears. He reached out a hand to touch hers, but hesitated, remembering Gibbs' presence. He awkwardly patted it anyway, before withdrawing it.

"When did Randall first contact you?"

"Last week, around Thursday," she said promptly, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue. "I tried to hide it from Trent—he can be very jealous—but last night he was home early and he answered the phone instead of me. I couldn't lie to him."

Xander nodded, writing down the date she mentioned in his notepad. "How did he react on the phone?"

Pamela paled even further, this time showing genuine distress, which just confused the two men even more. "He was mad that I kept it from him of course. He uh, shouted at Gordon."

Gibbs looked at the phone, noting that it looked a little battered.

"And when did Captain Hill leave to uh, 'take care of it?'"

"I didn't know," she protested. "He got dressed as usual. And he didn't mention last night at all. I thought he was just heading to work."

Xander nodded thoughtfully. "What time was that?"

"He always left at six-thirty," she said.

"And what about your daughter Aimee? Did she know her father wanted to see her?" Xander had to struggle to keep his voice even.

Pamela clenched her hands. "No, I haven't told her a thing." She stood up. "I should tell her a-about Trent. She's still in class right now, practicing for graduation."

The two men stood up. "Then we'll leave you to it, Mrs. Hill," Xander said politely. "We'll contact you when we know more or have further questions."

"B-but Gordon is in your custody, isn't he?" She asked. "Did he confess?"

"I'm afraid right now he is still out there," Xander said. "If you feel unsafe, I could assign a metro cop to look after you."

"Oh, there's no need," she said, shaking her head emphatically. "Gordon would never hurt me."

"Then why were you so afraid?" Xander asked. "Why did you tell him to leave you alone?"

Pamela Hill opened her mouth a few times. "I-I was afraid he'd ruin everything. Trent and I were happy, Agent Harris. And he was a good father to Aimee. I knew Gordon would just mess it all up."

"Of course," Xander said. He handed her a business card. "Please call if Gordon Randall contacts you or if you think of anything else that might be of help."

"Thank you for the coffee," Gibbs said, in a tone which was close to cheerful.

Xander headed for the door but stopped when he caught sight of a picture on the mantel. It was Aimee, all grown up, with the same red hair as her mother and her father's blue eyes and nose. "Your daughter is very beautiful," he said softly.

"Thank you," Pamela said absently. She frowned, wondering at the young man who seemed to be on the verge of crying just after seeing her daughter's photograph. "Do you know her from somewhere?"

"No," Xander denied. "She's a stranger to me."

---

"So what do you say, _boss_? Open and shut?" Gibbs asked him as soon as they were inside the car. Even with Harris as the lead, he was still in the driver's seat.

"Since when do you say a case is open and shut?" Xander muttered, still trying to get his emotions under control.

"Well Randall obviously did it, but it was Hill who came to his place. If Randall hired a good lawyer, he can get off on self-defense."

"We don't even know what Hill's COD is," Xander argued. "And Abby might be able to recreate the fight at the motel room from the pictures."

Gibbs nodded, hiding his smirk.

"Oh stop it. I know you're just playing the devil's advocate," the young agent complained.

"Whatever you say—"

"If you call me boss one more time—" Xander threatened.

"What will you do?" Gibbs asked, as he stepped on the gas, making Xander grab onto the dashboard in panic.

"Uh, pray?" Xander said uncertainly.

---

"No luck?" He immediately asked Kate, when they got back to the bullpen.

"Nope," Kate replied. "I left a picture at every hospital in the area, just in case."

"Tony's not back yet?"

"There are a lot more bars than there are hospitals, Harris." Kate rolled her eyes at him, making him want to stick out his tongue, before remembering where he was.

"Yeah, but there aren't a lot that would be open this time of day," he shot back. "Never mind," he said, sighing. He chanced a look at Gibbs. "Ducky?" He asked with a raised eyebrow.

Gibbs shrugged, which just made him frown. "You know lead or not, we're still a team, Gibbs, so if you have something, please share it with the rest of the class."

"Ducky first," Gibbs answered with barely concealed amusement, already walking towards the elevator.

"Coming, Kate?" Xander called.

Kate sighed exaggeratedly. "Sure."

---

"You know if I were Gibbs, I'd headslap you right now," Xander said while the three were inside the elevator. "What's the matter, Kate? You don't like working under a kid like me?"

"Maybe if I feel like this isn't a joke," she said, glancing at her boss, who gazed back at her calmly, choosing to let them hash it out. "Anyway, you're not Gibbs. So what will you do instead?"

Xander draped an arm around Kate's shoulder even as they walked towards Autopsy. Kate tried to shrug it off, but he squeezed her towards him. "I won't do anything, Agent Todd, because I think you'll do your job no matter who leads the team, if not for me, then for those who lost their loved one. Isn't that right, boss?" He looked back at Gibbs.

"He pegged you, Kate," Gibbs said, smirking.

Unwilling to admit defeat, Kate elbowed Xander. Hard. He coughed, finally removing his arm just as they entered the room.

"What do you got, Ducky?" He asked the older man, who had by then opened up the chest of Captain Trent Hill.

"Ah, just in time, my dear boy," Ducky said, smiling at him. "I already sent blood and tissue samples to Abby."

"You have cause of death already?"

Ducky led them to the x-rays already up on the wall. "Captain Hill did indeed suffer from trauma to the cranium, and from the various contusions on his body, I'd say it was a nasty fight. The problem is that by themselves, the cracks here and here are far too minute for me to conclusively say that it is the COD."

"So there's a possibility Gordon Randall didn't kill him?" Xander tried very hard not to sound hopeful, but even so, the emotion leaked into his words. "Or that he did, but in uh, a different manner?" He hurriedly added.

"That is correct. My suspicions were compounded when I have examined his organs." Ducky went back to the table. "His eyes in particular show signs of irritation, as does his skin."

"So poison?" Gibbs leaned forward to examine the eyeball more closely.

"Most likely, although Abby will have to confirm what kind. Her tests on the liver in particular could also determine how long ago Captain Hill had been exposed."

"Shouldn't you take hair samples, too?" Kate asked.

"Of course, Caitlin," Ducky said, looking affronted. "Mr. Palmer is probably handing them to Abby right now."

"Kate, as soon as Abby confirms the poison, could you get a warrant to search Pamela Hill's house? In the meantime, I think we should invite her in for another interview," Xander absently ordered. "Maybe you could get her to come in without a fuss. I don't think she liked me all that much."

"Gee, I wonder why," Kate said sweetly. "I'll get right on that, Harris, because I'm such a _good_ girl and do everything I'm told." She left Autopsy without a backward glance.

Gibbs slapped his shoulder, chuckling, just as Tony popped in with a big smile and two cups of coffee. "Got Randall cooling his heels in interrogation. He's saying he did it."

---

"Where did you find him?" Xander asked tersely on their way to the interrogation room.

"In Mac's pub about three blocks away from the motel. He was staring at a full glass of whiskey in front of him."

Gibbs raised his eyebrows, taking a sip of his coffee. "So he's still sober."

Tony shrugged. "Seems so."

"Wait, I'll just get something. Don't start without me, okay?" Xander said, before detouring back to the bullpen after draining his own cup.

Tony opened the door to the observation room right next to where Randall was in custody. Gibbs headed inside, stopping short when he saw the suspect. "Doesn't he need medical attention?"

"He refused it. He also refused counsel. He's beat up, but it looks worse than it is."

"So he's saying he did it?"

"Yeah," Tony confirmed. "Said it was revenge for Hill stealing his wife and kid."

"He's either incredibly stupid—"

"Or something else is going on," Xander finished from the doorway. "Do you want me to do it or…?"

"By all means," Gibbs said, gesturing with the hand that held the coffee cup. "Go get 'em, tiger."

"Thanks. I think," Xander muttered. "When Pamela Hill gets here, could you…?"

"We'll bring her here," Tony assured him. "You want her to observe, right?"

Xander nodded, before slipping into the room next door. For some reason his heart was pounding.

---

Randall Gordon did not age well after eight years. His hairline had receded, his waist had expanded, and he looked like he'd been through hell. Of course, that may have a lot to do with his injuries, which were consistent with a bare-handed fight. In spite of that, he looked up at Xander Harris with a stubborn tilt to his jaw. He still looked like a soldier.

For some reason, that cheered Xander up.

He took a chair and set it in front of Randall. He didn't want his teammates seeing his face while he spoke. He sat down and set the other man's SRB on the table.

"Could you go over everything, please, Mr. Randall? I just want to get my facts straight."

Gordon cleared his throat and began to speak.

---

Randall's story was pretty straightforward: Trent Hill had come in that morning, guns blazing so to speak. Hill threatened him to leave Pamela and Aimee alone. When he refused, they fought, and he ended up killing the marine using a table lamp.

Xander merely nodded, doodling notes on his pad. After the other man had finished, he started on his questions.

"According to your statement, you killed Captain Hill out of revenge. Is that correct?"

Gordon Randall nodded, almost sadly. "He was a friend of mine before I went on my last tour to Somalia. He betrayed me."

"But it was Trent Hill who went to your place, and not the other way around. That means whatever went down wasn't premeditated."

"I knew he was coming. He told me the night before, when he answered the phone instead of Pam."

Xander raised both eyebrows at the familiar way Randall called his ex Pam. "So you were ready for him?"

"That's right."

"No offense, Mr. Randall, but you were a Navy SEAL. If you were ready for him, I'm sure you could have killed him cleanly and without getting injured in the process."

"Guy's a marine," Randall said as an excuse.

"And a large man to boot. But I think you're underestimating your own capabilities, Mr. Randall. For instance, we found the revolver in your bag. Hill could have brought a weapon, but he didn't. And you _did_ bring one, but it was empty. If you really wanted to kill him, why didn't you bring ammunition and use it?"

"It wasn't sporting. I knew Hill wouldn't bring a weapon. He uh, prided himself on his ability to fight with his bare hands."

"So you wanted to kill him, but in a fair fight," Xander repeated slowly.

Randall nodded. "And I don't regret it. Trent Hill fought well. It was an honorable death."

"I see," Xander said. He did not mention the possibility of poison yet. "Would you do me the favor of listening to a story? It's pretty personal."

The other man nodded uncertainly. On the other side of the mirror, Kate was showing Pamela and Aimee Hill inside. Aimee stared at her biological father, torn between anger and longing. She made sure her mouth was twisted in disgust, however, as if she had been forced to go with her mom.

They all fell silent when Xander Harris started speaking.

---

"The truth is, my boss should have taken me off your case," Xander said, leaning back on his chair. "You want to know why?" At Randall's confused nod, he began. "Once upon a time, there was this boy who had no money but was forced to wear a costume for Halloween. He bought a cheap toy gun, and salvaged a set of fatigues from the local discount store."

Xander briefly toyed with the idea of telling the other man about Ethan Rayne, but immediately dismissed it as frivolous and unnecessary. "The boy wore it once, but afterwards when he washed it, something fell out of the pocket." He put his hand in his own pocket and took it out, dropping a set of dogtags on the table with a clink.

Gordon Randall's face was clearing, and he reached out a trembling hand to touch the tags.

"The patch on the uniform bore your name, and the tags matched it," Xander continued. "It took him awhile to find out who it belonged to. He even thought you were dead. But then his uh, hacker friend got ahold of your service record."

From behind the glass, Gibbs and Tony shared a look. _What hacker friend?_ They were both thinking. It took more than the usual hacker to pass through military firewalls especially those at NCIS.

Xander took out Randall's SRB. "It doesn't say much, does it? Only that you lost two men in Mogadishu, along with forty other American soldiers. You received a commendation for bravery. And then you finally leave Somalia in ninety-four to come home to an empty house."

Behind the glass, Pamela was openly sobbing, with Aimee looking down at her feet, her long hair covering her face. _Sure looks like guilt to me_, Tony thought. Gibbs was more interested in hearing the rest of Xander's story. Kate had left for Abby's lab; the sooner they found the poison, the sooner they can search Hill's house.

"Exactly. After Pam left, I couldn't stay with the SEALs. I crawled into the bottle and it was awhile before I could get out. Hill took my family away from me. He deserved to die. I wish I could have made it last longer," Randall said vehemently, but Xander could read the uncertainty in his eyes, and his words contradicted his previous talk of Hill having had an honorable death.

"Your SRB did tell me something, Gordon. It told me that you were a man who valued honor and loyalty. It told me that you were a hero." Xander took the dogtags and ran his thumb over them. "I was still in high school then. I wasn't even _planning_ on attending college. I was headed for minimum wage jobs in the service industry," he said, laughing self-deprecatingly. "But reading about you made me want to be part of something. You were the reason I studied criminology and the reason I joined NCIS. I wanted to be able to save and protect people just like you. So tell me this," Xander said, leaning forward to catch Randall's gaze. "Who are _you_ trying to protect?"

Gordon Randall was at a loss for a few seconds, before slumping, covering his face with his hands. "She called me, and told me she was afraid…" he began.

"You idiot," Pamela whispered on the other side.

Aimee looked up in horror. "Mom! You _didn't!_"

Gibbs leaned against the mirror, facing Pamela Hill. "We know about the poison. We have a warrant to search your house right now. Three guesses what we'll find, Mrs. Hill?"

"Trent was a mistake. He hurt me all the time. I was afraid he'd hurt my daughter," Pamela said desperately. "It was the only way I could protect her."

"So you called your ex-husband to take the fall? Lady, you are one cold uh, woman," Tony said, glancing at Pamela's daughter, even as he took out handcuffs and read her rights.

Aimee was crying openly then. Gibbs put an arm around her and steered her out to the hallway. "I'm sorry you had to be in the middle of that," he told her.

"She didn't even tell me he was here," the young girl said, gesturing to Randall in the next room. "I grew up thinking _he_ was the one who left us. I didn't know anything about Somalia. And Trent—whatever he was, he was a great dad. He never made me feel like I wasn't his."

"But he hurt your mom?" Gibbs asked gently.

"He was a big man, and very strong," Aimee confessed. "Mom always kept telling him to be careful when he was playing with me. I guess when he gets mad, he loses control a little. But I know he loved her, and he loved me." She covered her face and leaned into him, trying to control her tears.

"Hush now," Gibbs said, smoothing her red hair. He was thinking of Kelly. "Hush, sweetie. Don't cry."

Kate walked down the hallway, stopping at the sight of Gibbs holding a young girl _weeping_ in his arms. "Gibbs," she interrupted softly, waiting until he looked at her. "It's methanol. Abby found traces of formic acid in Hill's liver and the hair confirms he was dosed several times within the last couple months, most likely through ingestion."

"She's inside with Tony," was Gibbs' only reply. He didn't stop holding Aimee.

It was over.

---

"How did you know?" Gordon Randall asked the young man across from him. "I mean that I didn't do it? Hill just collapsed in the middle of the fight. I really thought I did it. I just wanted to scare him into leaving Pam and Aimee."

Xander smirked at the former soldier. "Trent Hill is pretty impressive physically, Gordon. If you really wanted to kill him, you'd at least set a trap or ambush him in a place of your choice, where you could use the territory to your advantage. You're sober now, and I'm assuming all the alcohol you've consumed hadn't destroyed your brain cells completely."

Gordon shook his head, finally understanding. "You don't think I could have taken him in a fair fight. Of course," he said, patting his beer belly. "I understand completely." He smiled sadly.

"Hey you're not that old, man. Get back into shape." Xander stood up, getting the dogtags and dropping it in Randall's palm. "And here, you can have this. Maybe it'll remind you of the man you were, and still are."

"Thank you…" Gordon held out his right hand.

"Xander. Just call me Xander. And frankly, I should thank _you_." Xander Harris shook hands with him. _I couldn't have killed the Judge or the giant snake without you. _"Let's just say you saved me, too."

Gordon sighed. "The only easy day…"

"Was yesterday," Xander finished in complete agreement, thinking of the paperwork to come.

---

A/N: As far as I know, there were no US Navy SEAL casualties in Somalia. Gordon Randall's name came from M. Sgt. Gary Gordon and Sfc. Randall Shughart, two men who were posthumously awarded the Medal of Honor for their sacrifice in said operation. (I never watched 'Black Hawk Down' but that's what it was about.) I'm not a big fan of the military, and I'm definitely not American, but watching NCIS has helped change my viewpoint on the war.

I had the hardest time writing this chapter. I don't know a thing about mysteries and procedures, so sorry if it's too short or there aren't enough twists. I hope you like it anyway. The last line is an unofficial motto of the Navy SEALs. Thanks for everyone who reads this especially those who leaves such insightful reviews! I've also have fan art, courtesy of my beta reader. (Because she took pity on my poor attempts...) The link can be found on my profile.

Next chapter: Xander's six-month probation is up.


	8. Chapter 8

Special Agent Harris, NCIS

Fojee

Chapter Seven: We all have Issues

Contains references to BtVS episodes "Reptile Boy" 2x05 and "Innocence" 2x14, among others.

"What's gonna happen to her now?" Xander asked Gibbs as he watched Aimee and Gordon get reacquainted in interrogation. Aimee's mother, Pamela had already been escorted out by Tony. "I mean I know she's almost eighteen, but still, having your mom kill your step-dad and pin it on your real dad: that's like beyond dysfunction."

"She told me she was going to Norfolk State U and study biology. And Randall might stick around. She'll be fine, Harris," Gibbs said, watching Gordon Randall hold his daughter, feeling himself _breathe_ a little easier. He turned to his agent. "Why do you care so much, anyway?"

"You _did_ hear me in there, didn't you? I did the big confess?" Frankly, Xander was more than a little embarrassed that his boss had to be there to listen to his 'my hero' spiel.

"Doesn't explain your interest in Randall's daughter, or how you know all those details about his life. Makes you sound like a stalker, Harris. Should I be getting worried?" He asked mildly.

Xander flushed. "No! I—geez, Gibbs. It's not like that. Let's just say I had a dearth of role models when I was young, so I went a little overboard. And of course I care about Aimee. We do what we do to protect people like her, don't we?"

Gibbs inwardly agreed. He still woke up some nights overwhelmed with his _if only's_, especially those involving children. _Like Kelly._ Everyone he failed to save.

"So do I pass or what?" Xander asked nervously, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

Gibbs looked at him in amusement. "If you have to ask, Harris…" He shook his head and walked out.

"That was a yes, yes?" Xander called out. "No? Yes?"

---

"So you're from Sunnydale?" Aimee asked him, while he led them outside. She still looked pale, but she carried an air of strength that reassured Xander. "We used to live there, I think. Didn't we?" She looked at her father for confirmation.

Gordon nodded tiredly. "You were born there, actually. We stayed a couple of years before we moved to Coronado. I went back awhile after Somalia; served under some guy…" He frowned, trying to remember.

"Colonel Newsome," Xander said. "I uh, knew someone at the base."

"Yeah, Newsome." Gordon lit up. "We called him Colonel Nuisance. Or the Newt."

"Really?" Aimee looked from her father's face to the NCIS agent. "So that's where you live now?"

Gordon shook his head. "No. I tried to get back to being the best I can be. But it was hard. Almost screwed up at some recon. So I quit before I could get anyone else killed. Then I moved to Santa Monica and straight into a bottle."

Xander nodded silently. They were lucky to have made it out there alive, though Randall probably returned to good old Sunnyhell out of some subconscious self-destructive tendencies. "But you'll stay, right? I mean I know it's none of my business…" he began, glancing nervously at Aimee.

"I'll be here," Gordon reassured him, but his eyes were on his daughter.

Xander watched them walk away with conflicted feelings. A part of him still considered Aimee his to protect. And yet he was also jealous of her. Was it too much to hope that one day, his own father would get sober and get a clue, and start acting like an actual dad? He shook his head. _I need a therapist_. _Preferably one who won't cart me off to an institution if I talk about my messed-upness._

At least, after meeting Gordon Randall, those memories weren't as heavy a burden. _Not quite a happy ending, but it'll do. Now if only Kate stops with the mad._

---

"I'm mad at you, Xander Harris," Abby announced as soon as he walked in. She was wearing what looked like barbed wire around her neck, and a black shirt with several bloodstains down the front. Her hair was in two braids, framing her pale face.

"Why? What did I do?" He asked defensively.

"It's what you _didn't _do. Gibbs made you lead on a case, and you didn't even come to see me to ask for the results!"

"I was…" Xander said weakly.

"Busy interrogating the suspect. Yes, Kate told me."

"Ah," Xander grimaced. "Kate." His other teammate still acted off around him. It had started since he talked to her about the terrorist who held her and Ducky hostage. _Guess she doesn't like being dressed down by a kid._

"It's tradition, Harris. You bring me my Caff-Pow, I tell you the poison was methanol, and that we matched it to the bottle in Pamela Hill's garage. And then you tell me—"

"Good work, Abs," Gibbs said from the door, striding in and handing her a large cup of her usual drink. He left after kissing her cheek, and headslapping Xander.

Abby accepted it graciously. "See?" She told Xander, who rubbed his head.

"I have much to learn, Yoda."

"Well, my padawan," Abby said. "You can start by telling me how your hacker friend was able to access someone's service record. That's big. Like national breach of security big. We need to build more firewalls or buy more guard dogs or something."

Xander cursed his wayward tongue, and wracked his brain for a plausible lie.

"Well Randall worked at the base in my hometown for awhile, so it was less with the hacking and more with the asking a favor from a soldier I knew on the inside."

"Uhuhmm." Abby looked at him skeptically. "Well as long as you say so. Now go, and may the force be with you," she said in a tone as regal as Queen Amidala's.

---

Tony was telling him they should go out to celebrate. "Come on, man. You've closed your first case! It _is_ so a big deal, like getting your first car. So we need to go and get ourselves seriously sloshed."

"Get drunk, get laid… God, Tony, you have the mentality of a frat boy," Kate announced in disgust.

"That's coz I _am_ a frat boy," Tony countered. "Alpha Chi Delta, Ohio State '89," he added proudly.

"You _are?_" Xander asked in horror. He almost crossed his arms to cover his chest, but stopped the impulse.

"What's wrong with that?" Tony asked him. "It's all about the brotherhood, my man."

"Oh, no," Xander assured him. "Don't mind me. I just had major trauma with the hazing and the humiliation."

"You were a pledge?" Tony asked the younger man.

"Ah, more like a gate crasher," Xander explained. "I was sort of in high school."

Tony laughed hysterically. "You gate crashed a frat party in high school? There's hope for you yet, Harris." He slung an arm around Xander's shoulder. "Come on. First round's on me."

---

"So you never pledged in college?"

They were at a sports bar, though for once, Tony wasn't obsessing with the scores. Xander was clutching his glass of soda. There was a distinct lack of cravage for anything alcoholic. _Beer bad._ He thought, before Tony's question sank in.

"No. I had too much extra-curriculars," he said. _There's the dealing with the beastie of the week, the occasional apocalypse, the people leaving or the dying. Who's got time to join some cult of manlihood? And wouldn't Willow be proud of that thought. _

"I had a part-time job, and I uh, was part of an archeology club. To tell you the truth, I don't have many guy friends, Tony. So I don't have a lot of practice doing the beer-bonging and the spitting contests and the fighting over which team should win." He smiled weakly.

Tony slapped his back. "That explains how testosterone-crippled you are, Harris. But it's not too late to cure you."

Xander laughed. "No offense, but aforementioned activities sort of remind me of my dad, so I'd really rather not."

"So you don't like it here?" Tony gestured expansively at the televisions strategically placed around the bar. At Xander's shrug, he smiled in understanding. "Well that's okay. We all have dad issues. Even Gibbs. Although Kate may have a daddy kink instead," he said with a wink. "So what _do_ you like doing on Saturday nights?"

"Uh, watching and trying to follow the convoluted and highly sophisticated plots of Bollywood movies?"

Tony's eye gleamed. "You're on."

---

Two weeks passed quickly. Half a dozen cases solved.

Meanwhile, the search engine kept running on Gibbs' computer, still trying to match a face from a video still to a name, the name of a terrorist who had infiltrated the Autopsy at NCIS in a body bag. Gibbs questioned Ducky again and again, trying to extract more useful clues to help narrow the search down. He talked to Gerald in the hospital, though the man could add little. He called McGee periodically, telling him to figure something out with the computer. The longer it took, the more irritable Gibbs became.

Tony was getting worried about him. Kate was torn between remorse and indignation. Xander just watched silently. He had sent out feelers of his own, though given the nature of his contacts, he was more likely to find Dracula than he would the nameless terrorist.

The clock kept ticking.

Until it was time.

---

"Hey, Xander. I heard you already made six months at NCIS. Bored yet?" Riley's open face smiled at him from the MTAC screen. Behind him was dark jungle: overlapping leaves showing only a sliver of the night sky.

Xander looked taken aback for a second. He laughed, "Well it's a lot better than the construction jobs I took in college."

Riley raised both eyebrows. "Really? Don't tell me you _enjoy_ working there. Coz I still have a position open for you on my team, Xander."

Xander shook his head disbelievingly. "So you got me this job, but you don't expect me to keep it? Why bother recommending me then?"

Riley shrugged. "It's not that. I figured you could do with a bit of experience before you move on to something else."

"Look, Ri," Xander started uneasily. "I'd never have accepted this position if I knew there were strings attached."

"That's not what I meant. Of course you can say no. I'm just disappointed, that's all."

"Why? I'm doing good here. There's something satisfying about interrogating potential bad guys and uncovering their motivations, instead of assuming they're evil and gunning them down."

"You know that's not what we do, Xander."

"Maybe. But if I wanted to do what you do, then I could always just go home."

"Sunnydale…"

"Is in good hands," he told Riley evenly. "Though I wouldn't recommend you visit any time soon. Uh, certain _people_ might object. And there's no point anyway…"

Riley looked away from the screen before meeting his eyes again. "I'm sorry about Bu- about _her_. But just because she's dead doesn't mean the mission's over."

Xander shook his head slightly. "That's the difference between us, Riley. You loved the mission; I loved the girl. As for Sunnydale, there's this whole new group dynamic. I don't belong there as much as I don't belong with you guys. I have my own team now." He looked at Gibbs wryly. "If they'll keep me, that is."

Gibbs didn't say a thing, but the look on his face—part amusement, part surprise—made him feel more confident.

"Well, that's up to you, man. Graham and the others wish you well," Riley said, clearly looking uncomfortable about the direction their conversation had taken. "Sam, too."

"You do understand, don't you, Ri?" Xander asked softly.

Riley Finn shook his head. "No, you're right. You're doing good things there. Maybe that's where you're needed right now. But the offer's still on the table, Xan."

"I know. Oh, by the way," Xander said, biting his lip and looking around nervously. "Did you get the uh, file I sent you?" Gibbs and Morrow exchanged glances at the deliberately vague phrasing.

Riley nodded. "Yeah, and you're right; the likeness is uncanny. I'll see what I can do—we have some contacts in the area—but it seems a little out of my jurisdiction."

"Anything will help. Thanks, Ri."

The screen went dark. Xander removed the headphones, handing them to a tech. He looked over at Gibbs, who had crossed his arms.

"What mission? And what girl?" The older man asked.

Director Morrow shifted, as if he wanted to speak, but instead deferred to Xander. It made Gibbs grit his teeth in frustration.

"Mission's classified," Xander answered in a fake chipper voice, though his face softened as he continued. "As for the girl, she was uh, someone special. Someone to fight for, and fight with and fight by all at once."

"And so when she died, you quit?" Gibbs stared into Harris' eyes. "Are you in _this_ for the long haul, Harris?"

"I didn't quit, Gibbs; I merely relocated. And yes, as long as you'll have me, I'm here."

Gibbs seemed to relax. "Good. So what file was he talking about?"

"Nothing, Gibbs. Now if he comes up with _something_, you'll be the second to know," Xander promised. "Coz you know, I'll be the first…" He smiled as charmingly as he could.

Gibbs stared at him for a long moment, before giving up. He nodded at Director Morrow and headed out of MTAC. "Get your ass to the gym in ten minutes, Harris. Six months review: we'll see how much you've improved."

"Great, boss. Excellent," Xander Harris said weakly, already feeling how much it will hurt. "Just what I need: bruises on my bruises."

"Harris!" Gibbs called out.

"On your six, boss," Xander automatically responded, jogging to catch up.

Director Tom Morrow looked up at the blank screen for a second, pondering the mystery that was Alexander Lavelle Harris. He knew the edges of it—all the agency heads did these days—but not much more. One day, Gibbs would find out that boy's secrets. And when that happens, he didn't know whom he'd feel sorrier for.

Maybe it was time he started thinking of retirement.

---

A/N: I know I promised supernatural goings-on in the next chapter, but I'm thinking of dividing the story by seasons—when they fit—and what I promised might be in season two. (It's mostly written, though, so you don't have to wait that long.)

This is my attempt to tie up the loose ends of the previous chapter, including inconsistencies with the canon. (As the soldier!boy had knowledge of access codes and base lay-outs…) I appreciate your amazing and helpful reviews!


	9. Chapter 9

Special Agent Harris, NCIS

By Fojee

Chapter Eight: Saving Ourselves

Dialogue/spoilers of NCIS episode "Weak Link" 1x22 and references to BtVS season 4 episodes "Primeval" and "Restless."

"People are like tea bags; put them in hot water and you'll know how strong they are."

-rephrased from movie "Diverted"

---

"I really need some advice," McGee spoke into the phone. "Abby and I have been uh, seeing each other more often these days—"

"Really? So you're over me kissing her?" Xander teased the case agent.

"Well at first I thought she was into you, but when I asked her she said you were like Tony, an honorary brother or something, so I asked her out again and she said yes," McGee babbled quickly, reminding him yet again of Willow. "And we've been going out for awhile, but last night I took her to this coffee shop and I read a poem to her…"

"Aloud? In front of a crowd? My, what big balls you have, McGee," Xander said. The line fell silent. "I didn't mean for it to come out the way it sounded."

"It's okay. Let's uh, forget you ever said anything," The other man said quickly before blurting out. "I told her I liked her."

There was a pause, before Xander asked, "How exactly—"

"I told her that I really, really liked her," McGee confessed gloomily. "And she said thanks."

"Ouch," Xander said, cringing. "That's like a stake to the gut. So what d'you do next?"

"I asked her where our relationship was going."

"Timothy McGee!" Xander practically shouted.

"What? Is that bad? I just really wanted to know," McGee complained. "It's like she pulls me in a twirly ride and it's dizzying and fun, but I want to know what's going to happen next before I puke."

Xander mentally sighed, thinking back to his own string of bad relationships. "Look, I'm not really one to talk, but if you really like someone, you have to know _when_ to tell her."

"When?" McGee almost threw up his hands in frustration, but he was still holding onto the cellphone.

"When you feel that she really likes you back," Xander replied. "Otherwise you'll just scare her away."

"So you never just took the risk and told someone you loved them?" McGee asked.

_Anya_. The name popped into his head, disorienting him for a moment. "Sometimes the risk pays off, but it's not a guarantee that the relationship will work. There _is_ no guarantee, McGee, so just enjoy the ride, puke and all."

"But don't women want men to woo them?" McGee asked in confusion. "To, to be all passionate and valiant and…"

"And clingy you mean?" Xander asked him. "Abby doesn't seem like the type to appreciate men who force her or who try to change her. That's like forcing a bat to sing like a robin. And I did not mean for that to sound all comic booky," Xander added lamely. "Look, just talk to her; apologize for pressuring her and listen to what she says. Okay, buddy? Abby's not the type to beat around the bush anyway."

From his position beside the stairs, Xander saw Gibbs enter the bullpen, walking purposely towards his desk.

"Look, I gotta go. Think we have a case." He hung up on McGee and jogged up to his own desk, grabbing his backpack just as Gibbs barked out the order.

"Harris, get Ducky. Tony, gas the truck."

"On it, boss." Both men shared a glance after they simultaneously answered. "Jinx!" They both exclaimed. Kate sniggered. Gibbs glared at Tony, then at Xander, making him feel nine years old.

Oh but it felt good to be part of the team.

---

Team Eight of the U.S. Navy Seals had been rappelling down a cliff, practicing for a classified op, when Lieutenant Rick Johnson's D-link snapped and he fell to his death amidst falling debris. Xander Harris looked up at the top of the sheer cliff, squinting against the sun, taking an occasional photo, before Gibbs ordered him and Tony to go up there for a look-see.

By then, Xander had learned to keep his whining to himself; Tony whined enough for both of them anyway, though at Gibbs' expression, he soon ran out of steam. Xander grabbed the older agent's arm and practically dragged him away, his camera bouncing on his chest as he went.

They had to walk a mile away just to get to somewhere even remotely climbable. Instead of the cliff face, there was a small trail set on a gradual incline, though they still had to be careful of loose rocks. By then, they were covered hair to boots in dust and Tony was grumbling about them getting the sucky jobs and Kate being Gibbs' favorite.

"Look on the bright side, Tony," Xander said.

"What's that?"

"Dust's easier to clean off your clothes or your hair than say, blood or other bodily fluids," Xander replied. He should know; even just being fray-adjacent to the actual slaying, he's been dosed with enough dust to fill a mausoleum of cremains.

Tony shook his head, dislodging a layer of the fine powder. "You sure think the oddest thoughts, Harris."

They both fell into a comfortable silence as they climbed, with one hauling the other up when they looked like they would slip.

Left to his own thoughts, Xander was reminded of the desert that appeared in Buffy's dream, where she supposedly fought the First Slayer. She had tried to explain it to them afterwards, how it made her question her identity, and the source of her powers. But Xander had tuned it out, too busy dealing with his own plethora of cryptic messages.

_I'm way ahead of you, big brother_, dream Buffy had said. Maybe it presaged her death, but the line always sounded hopeful to him. She's _ahead_. It was one reason why he was convinced she had gone to a better place and not the hell dimension that Willow had feared.

His arm was grabbed by Tony who pulled him away from the ledge. "Whoa. You almost fell there, kid. Watch where you're going."

"Thanks," he muttered. "Just deep in thought."

They trudged back to the site in silence. Traversing the distance and height had taken away Tony's usual bounciness.

"I heard you got some call from someone in Bolivia up in MTAC. Good news?" He asked casually.

Xander shrugged. "Just an old friend saying hello. He knew my six months were up; wanted to know how it went. How did Gibbs hire you, anyway?"

Tony looked away. "We got a navy case in Baltimore and I ended up working with him and Ducky. We got our guy, but it took awhile. After that, I was on the verge of burn out and he offered me a job."

Xander frowned. "There has to be more to it than that."

"There always is," Tony said. "Ducky said I reminded him of when he was younger. Don't know if I should believe that, though."

"Well he obviously trusts you, which pretty much says it all." Xander's voice was wistful.

Tony headslapped him.

"Hey!" He exclaimed indignantly.

"Give it a couple of years, lunkhead. Now come on. If we take too long, they might leave us behind."

It was almost noon when they reached the area. Xander took a cautious step towards the edge, and was reassured by the sight of the men in the clearing. The body was gone; Ducky must have taken it already.

"You ever rappelled?" He heard Tony ask him from behind.

He had a flashback of being Gordon Randall, but it wasn't real, any of it. Except… "Once. It wasn't this high though," he said, before wincing and internally cursing his big mouth. "It was just an obstacle course kinda thing," he hurriedly added.

Tony absently nodded, already taking measurements.

Xander took a couple of photographs, telling himself to focus on the job at hand, instead of on the very real memory of rappelling down an elevator shaft from a fraternity down into the secret military base of the Initiative, back when they had to fight the frankenmonster Adam.

Afterwards he had never signed any confidentiality form, but judging from the blacked out files McGee had found, it was well and truly covered up. He understood, though he felt sorry for all those young soldiers whose parents would never get closure. Like Jesse's mom never did.

He thought back to Riley's offer. Could he have taken it? The Initiative was gone. The laboratories and cells underground had been filled with concrete after all the bodies had been retrieved. But that didn't mean that the military chain of command could still be trusted when it comes to the supernatural.

He was lucky. His role in the failed operation and his history with Finn and the others had given him a sort of immunity and a sort of authority when it came to these things. But he didn't expect it to last forever, or to be limitless. For instance, if Gibbs fired him right now…

"Earth to Xander," Tony said, knocking on his head. "I said we better head back."

"Oh, alright. Sorry," he said, taking one last look down at the desert stretched out below him. He sighed. It was pointless to think about what ifs. He had done enough of that when he left Sunnydale.

"Do you think we could call for a chopper to get us down?" Tony asked. "You're big with the SecNav, right? How about you give him a ring, ask for a teensy favor?"

Xander elbowed the other agent. "Just start walking, Tony."

---

When Lt. Johnson's wife opened the door, Xander Harris reached for a cross and shoved it in her face.

"What the hell are you doing, Harris?" Gibbs growled out.

"Ah, ah," he said, before it dawned on him that it was daylight and the woman wearing Darla's face was not bursting into flames. "I thought it might give her comfort. One of the guys said Johnson was very religious. I am very sorry for your loss, ma'am. We're from the NCIS."

Denise Johnson accepted the cross with an absent thank you. It didn't sizzle or burn her very human hands. He sighed in relief, and tried to stay out of Gibbs' way. Kate didn't say anything, but her amusement was evident in her eyes.

Stifling the urge—yet again—to blow her a raspberry, he sat down on the chair and tried to calm his heart beat down. Seeing someone with the face of the monster who killed his best friend was _really, really_ bad for the nerves.

---

Kate picked up the D-link. "Johnson was an experienced climber. He'd realize the swapped D-link was lighter. He'd know the difference."

"It's been staring us in the face all along," Gibbs said under his breath, as he grabbed his coat and headed up to the parking lot.

"He did it; Johnson killed himself," Tony said in dawning realization.

Xander nodded grimly. "The only question is why."

---

Denise sobbed. "If I hadn't confronted Rick, he wouldn't have done it. It was my fault."

Xander let Kate do all the comforting. He found himself looking at the picture of the couple on a shelf, a picture from happier times, though he supposed the lieutenant had never really been happy. Not with a woman.

The military was big with the don't ask, don't tell thing, and there were many who survived by being discrete. But it was different in the Seals. Your team—especially out on a mission—was closer than your blood. Holding a secret that big, and the threat of it coming out and destroying the whole team, he could see why Johnson would choose death as a way out. But it doesn't make him less of a coward.

"If he was a stronger person, you could have convinced him to go for his happiness. It wasn't your fault, Denise. You loved him. You wanted him to be happy. That's all," he spoke almost softly.

The woman with Darla's face stared at him, before smiling sadly. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. I just thought he'd want the secret kept."

"It will be," Gibbs said just as his phone rang. "It doesn't affect our findings." He excused himself, turning away to tell Commander Rainer that the mission was not compromised.

"Thank you," Denise said, crying once again but with relief. "Thank you very much." It seemed Lieutenant Rick Johnson wasn't the only one burdened so heavily by that secret.

Xander resolved to call Willow and tell her again how much he loved her, big gayness and all.

---

McGee and Abby finally hacked into the servers, and they were able to contact the lieutenant's boyfriend. Gibbs told McGee to set up a meet.

"Can I _not_ go?" Tony immediately said. "I uh, have paperwork to do." He waved a sheaf of papers to make his excuse more believable.

"What's the matter, Tony? Still having nightmares about that she-man that you kissed?" Kate asked snidely.

"I'll go," Xander volunteered, surprising everyone in the room, including himself.

Gibbs raised an eyebrow, but nodded his agreement.

---

They met at a coffee shop in Baltimore. Xander had never been there, and got lost several times, til a call to Tony got him turned in the right direction. He really needed a GPS navigation device, but he could barely afford car insurance on his secondhand Impala.

Harvey Dale was already sitting there, looking nervous. Xander recognized him from some naughty-wish-I-could-scrub-my-brain-out pictures that Abby found on Johnson's e-mail account. He was a dark-haired man, older than he expected, with a hook nose and dark, intense eyes. He stood up as soon as Xander walked closer, holding out his hand.

"You were the one who e-mailed me?" The other man asked.

"Yes. I'm Special Agent Harris , NCIS." Xander took out a photograph of Rick Johnson. "It's about this man."

Harvey paled. His hand hovered over the picture. "What happened to him?" At Xander's look, he drew his own conclusions. "H-he's dead, isn't he? When he didn't come, I thought it would be something like that."

"I am sorry for your loss," Xander said, trying to go for sympathetic without any hint of awkwardness.

"How did you find me? Dave's always careful about hiding his tracks."

"Dave?" He asked, eyebrows rising.

Harvey looked down. "He was just _so damn_ paranoid. I knew it wasn't his real name, but I didn't want to push it. Do you mind telling me? His real name, I mean? I won't tell anyone else. I just really want to know."

Xander looked at the grief in the man's eyes and made a snap decision. "Rick. His name is Rick."

The other man digested that for a moment, before blurting out. "How did he die? Was it on that mission he was leaving for?"

"He uh, it was too much for him," Xander said, as words failed him. This was totally a bad idea, and he cursed himself for volunteering. "He fell. It was instant, if that's any consolation."

"Christ!" By then, Harvey was weeping, not caring that the other people in the shop were staring at them. "I tried to help him, to get him to talk to this counselor I knew about coming out, but he pushed me away. He was so angry and afraid. When he left, I thought to myself, this is it. This was the last time. But he e-mailed me again, and then he didn't show up. I was going out of my mind with worry."

"You loved him," Xander said tentatively.

Harvey choked out a laugh. "What there was of him he allowed me to see."

"He was happy with you, I'm sure," Xander said, trying to comfort the older man.

"But it still wasn't enough to save him," Harvey Dale said, picking up the picture of the dead lieutenant, tracing the smiling face with one trembling finger.

"In the end," Xander said softly, "we need to save ourselves."

There was nothing else to say, so he stood up and made his farewells, leaving a twenty for the coffee he didn't drink. He also left the grieving man with Rick Johnson's photograph.

On the drive home, Xander opened the car radio, turning the dial to his favorite station and gladly welcomed the catharsis of the music of pain.

_It's been a long week. I've got a slow leak in my left front tire. I'm sick of where I work. My boss is such a jerk. Don't care if I get fired. My back's about to break. No money in the bank. And she don't call me anymore…_

---

When he got back, he put on his game face—which didn't involve pointy teeth or forehead lumps—and went out with the gang to celebrate Jimmy Palmer's acceptance as a full-time assistant medical examiner.

At the low-key bar, he watched McGee and Abby snuggle in one seat, sharing a drink between them. He caught Kate's eye, and for the first time in awhile, she smiled at him openly and genuinely. She was obviously delighted that the two computer geeks had worked it out. He smiled back, forcing his shoulders to relax and teasing Jimmy about something.

Love still existed. In myriad forms, in various incarnations, rising and falling in our breast like waves. He believed that, no _needed_ to believe that. He stood up abruptly and excused himself, walking towards the row of payphones by the washrooms.

He entered a few coins and dialed Willow and Tara's home number in Cleveland. He just needed to hear her voice and reassure himself that she was happy.

That it was possible to be happy.

---

A/N: Unexpectedly ended on a maudlin note. I rewatched the ep, and thought I had to write something about Abby and McGee. And then the gay theme snuck in and the next thing you know, it's "brokeback mountain" time and there's weeping and gnashing of teeth, and I'll stop now.

Julie Benz aka Darla is a guest star of this ep, as Denise Johnson. (I hope I made it obvious enough.) Song lyrics are from a Nashville band Love and Theft, a song called "Runaway," written by Stephen Barker Liles, C.L. Smith and Rob Blackledge. (I just searched for country music randomly for appropriate lyrics.)

Next up: season one ender.


	10. Chapter 10

Special Agent Harris, NCIS

By Fojee

Chapter Nine: A Spider at Sunset

Several lines of dialogue taken verbatim from NCIS episode "Reveille" 1x23.

---

_You descend upon them like a spider at sunset._

_On your bosom, black lilies._

_Your teeth, white as tombstones,_

_purify altars and famed steeples._

…

_Killer, from your throat a dying city rattles its death rattle._

_The silence grinds out luminescence in lambent silence._

_I should sip champagne. Cross myself._

_From_ "The Killer" by Ruxandra Cesereanu

Translated from the Romanian by Adam J. Sorkin and Claudia Litvinchievici with the author

---

It was forty minutes past three and Xander Harris was wide awake.

He had finished patrol at around eleven, opting for an early night, having found nary a vampire in town. Aside from human muggers and drug dealers and women of questionable repute, there was little criminal activity in the area. He did break up a pathetic fight between a very stupid Ano-Movic demon and a very drunk Mok'Tagar tourist in the alley outside Petrovich's. But for the pronounced eye ridges and red skin of the Ano-Movic, it could have been a normal bar brawl, since the Mok'Tagar could pass for human if they chose. Soulless, but human. As it was, Xander barely worked up a sweat before coming home and falling to bed.

_So why am I awake?_ Xander spent a full minute just listening to the sounds of the pre-dawn, trying to find the answer. He sat upright as soon as he heard the scratching. He breathed evenly, trying to get his heartbeat under control even as he reached for a weapon. Sure, it could be mice. Or it could be evil blood-sucking mice from some hell dimension.

He slid out of bed noiselessly and walked barefoot towards the front door.

_Scritch, scritch, scritch._ Wasn't there a horror movie that began just like this? _Tony would know,_ he thought with barely repressed hysteria. He opened the peephole, looking through it sideways. Nothing.

The scratching continued, but it came further down the door.

Xander looked down at his white shirt and his blue pjs, wishing he had a spare Kevlar vest lying around. Or lightweight chain mail.

He opened the door, praying that the spell against intruders will hold.

A wolf—with a coat of gleaming white and intelligent yellow eyes—was sitting in the hallway. It made a noise between a whine and a growl and tilted its head as if in question.

Xander's own eyes widened in recognition, before closing in resignation.

"Please come in, Master."

---

McGee was waxing poetic about this new program that would speed up the search for his mysterious terrorist. The Bastard. The Man without a Name. Gibbs rubbed his temples. He had dreamt about him again, and woke up with a headache. And he still didn't understand a word the younger agent was saying.

"This you can do?" He asked, fed up with all the talk.

"I just need a couple of hours to put it on your hard drive."

Gibbs told him to get on it, before turning to Abby. "Did he stay at your place?"

"Yeah," she said with that wicked smile of hers. She always loved to tease him.

"Did you sleep in the coffin, McGee?" He asked, teasing back, letting her know indirectly that he was fine. He and Abby were used to talking without words, or through words that had three different meanings. With satisfaction, he let the elevator doors close on McGee's shocked face.

---

Kate was still trying to digest the fact that Gibbs bought her coffee, when he dropped his bombshell.

"I want you to profile a terrorist."

"What terrorist?"

"The one you couldn't stab."

She bit her lip. "I already had this conversation with Xander."

Gibbs slammed a hand on the table, drawing the attention of other people in the coffee shop. "You profiled him for Harris?"

"No! He asked me why I couldn't kill him."

"And what did you say?"

Kate covered her face with her hands. "His eyes seemed kind. And don't start another lecture, Gibbs. I won't forget."

"Won't forget what?" Gibbs asked softly.

"That eyes can lie."

"Why'd he give me a gun?" Gibbs asked.

Kate looked confused. "Xander?"

"No. The _bastard_. He let me take a shot at him. Why?"

"To make his escape plan work."

Gibbs was shaking his head even before she stopped speaking. "He could have killed me in cold blood. H-R-T comes in, throws a flash bang. Either way he's gone."

"You're right." Kate throws his question back at him. "So why'd he give you a shot at him?"

The answer dawned on Gibbs like a gear clicking in place. "He needs to face death to feel alive. Maybe to feel anything."

---

"Where the hell is Harris?" Gibbs asked as soon as he got back to the office.

"He called in sick," McGee blurted out. He was still sitting on Gibbs' desk. "He said he wasn't feeling very well."

Gibbs tried the kid's cellphone, but it went straight to voice-mail. "Sick, my ass," he muttered. "Get me Harris' address," he barked out at Kate.

"You're going to his place?" Kate asked, but Director Morrow chose that moment to show up.

"Jethro, we got Bahrain on the line. You requested the conference call?"

Gibbs immediately grabbed a folder from his desk. "Try Harris until you contact him," he ordered Kate, before following the director up to MTAC.

McGee, nerves shot at the air of tension in the bullpen, gathered up his things. "Could you tell Gibbs I'll tweak the uh, program in Abby's lab," he said breathlessly, before retreating.

Kate just shook her head. _McGee needs to grow a pair if he really wants to be a field agent._ She tried Harris' phone to no avail. A very long and unproductive minute later, Tony showed up with a smile as big as a valley and as bright as a sunrise.

"Let me guess. You're in love. Again," Kate said after she noticed his expression.

"You are so right," Tony said, sitting down on his desk, remembering the hot blonde number he had seen on his morning run.

"What's her name?" Kate asked, curious in spite of herself.

"She's Swedish." _And in great shape_. Tony mentally added, remembering how the blonde had run up the stairs without a change in her breathing.

"You don't know her name?" Kate looked incredulous for a moment. "Oh, I forgot. It's _you_ we're talking about."

"Where's Xander?" Tony asked, finally noticing the absence on the desk beside him.

"Off sick, but I can't reach him. Gibbs is gonna tear him a new one," Kate said, and almost smiled, imagining how Harris would react. "He might even piss his pants."

---

Xander Harris no longer laughed in the face of danger; he no longer hid until it went away. But standing in front of the Dark Master, he stifled the insidious urge to cower in a corner. Instead, he sat down on the couch, his posture stiff and watchful, keeping up the pretense that he could still protect himself.

He had rigged together some covering for the tiny windows high up in the walls, though with the grime, there was little chance for direct sunlight to harm the vampire in his living room. After that, he had spent an hour ordering and waiting for blood from a contact at a nearby hospital. It was only polite after all, for a host to offer his guest a cup of o-neg.

By the time it was dawn, he was jumpy as hell, sipping his own cup of coffee. The wolf was gone. In its place stood the man, politely nibbling on some cinnamon cookies and making small talk.

"And how are you, my servant?" Dracula asked.

"Fine. I'm… better. Master," he answered choppily.

"I extend my deepest condolences for the passing of your… _friend_. She was indeed an unusual young lady," the vampire spoke precisely and cautiously, daintily sipping a cup of heated blood.

"Yes," Xander said tersely, looking at the pattern of his rug as if it could open a portal beneath his feet that would suck him into a different dimension. If only. "I… thank you, Master."

"You must be wondering why I am here."

Xander looked up, was caught in Dracula's penetrating gaze, and felt a ripple of fear and something else cascading down his spine. Dracula's eyes wore kindness as if it were a festive hat. Distracting, but one could still see the icy emptiness beneath it.

"You have been searching for a man with my face," Dracula continued when he remained silent. "It… _wounds_ me that you didn't immediately send word."

Xander swallowed the lame excuse forming in his throat. "Sorry, Master."

"Your… paramour has left you," Dracula said after a moment, almost hesitantly. "And you are far from your friends. You are lonely."

Xander stood up in a sudden burst of energy. "No," he said in an almost yell, his eyes drawn to the pictures on his wall. "I'm _not_ lonely. I'm not."

Dracula stood as well. "I see some strangers' faces," he said. "Perhaps you should introduce me to them."

"Gibbs will likely shoot you on sight," Xander said. "Not that it will kill you, but…"

"Another time, then," Dracula said dismissively. "You still haven't asked me any questions."

"You taught me never to question you," Xander replied bitterly.

"Ah, but you are not the man you were, my servant." And Xander had the uncomfortable notion that Dracula was checking him out.

"Fine. Do you know him? The man with your face?"

Dracula caught his eyes once more, measuring and calculating. "His name is Ari Haswari."

---

Three hours later, Xander called in sick, turned off _both_ phones, unplugged his landline, and sat in the soothing darkness of his empty living room.

Dracula was gone. He had turned into mist, disappearing down the pipes in his sink towards whichever lair he had chosen. Xander spent a moment wracking his brain for abandoned mansions in the area, before giving it up as useless. If he concentrated, he could feel the mark and follow it back to his master. But why would he want to? It's not like he could kill the vampire.

But he could kill Ari Haswari.

---

"So you've been watching over your brother's descendents for over five hundred years?" Xander had asked in fascination.

"Yes. Radu had lain with many women while living with the Turks, though he died of syphilis in Wallachia the year before I was turned. His wives and children in Turkey were murdered in a political dispute. A few escaped into exile, down to Lebanon until they ended in Israel in the Palestinian territories. There are very few of them remaining, one of which is your man."

"He's not my man," Xander had denied, before saying hesitantly. "If my boss ends up killing him…"

"What does it matter to me?" Dracula had smiled sharply, flashing fang. "I have kept an eye on them only because it was amusing. My brother betrayed me once, and I would have killed him myself. Besides, these political games you humans play bore me."

"Like you weren't a wily war general in your time. Don't deny it."

"You read up on me?" Dracula had looked pleased at the admission.

Xander had blushed scarlet.

"Ari Haswari courts death as if it were a lover. It is no matter whose hand delivers the final blow," Dracula had said, before proffering his farewells. "Keep in touch, my servant."

"Wait!" Xander had called out, his voice cracking. "Why are you helping me? What do you want from me?"

Dracula had turned towards him, stepping close, and laying a cold hand on his cheek, saying softly as if a thread of wind. "Because you are mine."

---

Gibbs looked down at the post-it with Harris' address, feeling unusually indecisive. He was sitting in the car outside Harris' building. The decision was taken out of his hands as the front door opened, and his agent came out. Looking healthy as a horse.

He got out, slammed his door shut and jogged across the street, grabbing Xander's shoulder. And finding himself face first against the wall, his hand twisted up behind his back, Harris' arm behind his neck.

"Harris," he grunted. He was immediately released.

"Boss!" Xander said in horror. "I'm sorry."

"Never say you're sorry. It's a sign of weakness," Gibbs replied automatically, before wincing, rotating his right shoulder. He had been taken by surprise. Even so, the kid had never reacted that fast in their practices. "You holding out on me, boy?"

"Well you scared the crap out of me. Adrenaline rush," Xander said sheepishly.

"So why d'you call in sick? And where are you headed?"

"I had a surprise visitor," he answered evasively. He took a deep breath, before speaking. "I have his name."

Gibbs' eyes narrowed. "What?"

"The terrorist. His name's Ari Haswari. He's Hamas, _and_ Mossad."

Gibbs let out a string of colorful invectives, pulling out his phone, and calling Tony.

"DiNozzo," Tony answered.

"Get me everything on Ari Haswari. And I want it five minutes ago."

Kate raised her eyebrows in question. Tony shrugged. "On it, boss." _There goes lunch._

---

_What now?_ Ari Haswari thought as he peered through the binoculars into could feel the impatience of his men, though they were in a separate car, waiting for his signal. Marta was nearby, in case she was needed to distract Anthony. Young Alexander could be dispatched by another team on standby. Everything was in place. _Come on, Caitlin. It's time to dance._

---

"The name Ari's Israeli. Haswari's Arab," Gibbs said contemplatively. As soon as he had returned to the office, dragging Harris along, he called the whole team into a huddle to discuss their findings.

"Maybe his folks are working on some sort of Middle East peace plan," Abby said.

"Ducky was right about the accent," McGee added. "He graduated from Edinburgh Medical College in ninety four." He brought up the picture on the plasma.

"Kate, find someone who knew him in Edinburgh."

"Already did, boss," Tony interrupted. "I spoke to a Doctor Martin Sedwick, Pickford Mews, London. He and Ari were post graduate research assistants at the Edinburgh Centre for Infectious Diseases. Explains why Hamas chose him to recover the small pox virus. Doctor Sedwick said he was quite brilliant, always with beautiful women and always answered to Haswari….never Ari."

Kate added. "His father was Doctor Benjamin Weinstein, Jewish. His mother, Doctor Hosmiya Haswari, Muslim. They worked in Jerusalem Hospital and never married."

"That's not right," Xander spoke quietly.

"What?" Kate turned to him, protest leaping to her lips.

"His father is the Director of Mossad, Eli David," Xander said. "Ari's a sleeper."

Everyone fell silent at the implications, though McGee was already typing the information into the computer. "I can't find any verification of that."

"Of course you won't find it," Xander said. "Ari's safety within the Hamas depends upon keeping that a secret."

"But, that makes him a good guy, right?" Abby asked.

"Tell that to Gerald," Gibbs growled before walking out. He needed to talk to Director Morrow.

---

"Hey, I'm gonna go for a lunch run," Tony said, "You guys want something?"

"I'll go with you," Kate volunteered. "Just to make sure you get the orders right."

"Keep out of trouble," Xander blurted out.

"What are you, my dad?" Kate teased him, before listing down who wants what. "Better get something for Gibbs, too."

"Gibbs thinks he's out there, Kate. So I'm just saying don't take any chances," Xander caught her eye. She felt her back straightening—a mix of indignation and agreement.

"Aye, aye, sir," she said ironically.

"Don't worry, Kate. I'll protect you," Tony said, flexing a bicep. "Just hide behind these muscles and you'll be safe."

They were bickering as usual as they left, but Xander still couldn't shake his unease.

"So, Xander?" Abby leaned forward, making McGee shift in jealousy. "Where did you get the 411, anyway? Gibbs said something about you having connections in high places?"

"More like low," Xander murmured. "Can't reveal my sources, anyway. Imagine the uproar it would cause at Mossad."

"Ten bucks says Gibbs is causing that uproar now," Abby dared him with a wink.

"I'm not stupid enough to take that bet," Xander protested.

McGee stood up, clearly uncomfortable watching Abby flirt with someone else. "Maybe I should be going before Gibbs remembers to kick me out. I mean the program ended up being useless so…"

"Stay for lunch, McGee," Xander said. "You need to wait for Gibbs' go-signal anyway."

"Why?" McGee blurted out.

"Because I just told you highly-classified intel. You need to be debriefed about it, as soon as Gibbs finds out the official stance." He made air-quotes around the phrase.

"In the meantime, _I_ need to debrief Ducky, and get back to work. So you boys play nice," Abby said, blowing McGee a kiss before heading to her lab.

"Well, what'll I do, then?" McGee asked.

Xander looked at the stack of folders on his desk. "You could help me with my paperwork?" He asked hopefully.

---

They just stepped out of the restaurant a block away from the office when Tony saw the Swedish hottie across the street, still running in her sports bra and orange shorts.

"Kate, can you just give me a minute?" He said, handing the take-out bags to her.

"No, Tony!" She protested. "If you go chasing some skirt, I'll sic Gibbs on you."

Tony stopped short at the edge of the curb. "You do know I'm not scared of Gibbs, don't you?"

"Then why d'you stop?" Kate asked.

"Because it's past one and she's still in the same outfit as this morning. No one runs that long and still looks fresh as a daisy."

Kate's mouth dropped open.

---

"He didn' take the bait. Damn it!" Marta reported on her cellphone. "Your plan's falling apart, Haswari."

"Relax, Marta," Ari said in soothing tones. "We still have a chance at this."

Kate was already dialing Gibbs when she saw _him_. He was in a red motorcycle and a matching helmet. He clicked his visor open, and his eyes drilled into hers. She forgot everything, forgot to press the dial button, and forgot that Tony was at her side.

She dropped the bags and got out her gun. But the lights turned green, and Ari zoomed past.

"Kate, what the hell…" Tony grabbed her arm, just as she was hailing the nearest car.

"It's Ari, Tony. Call Gibbs. I'm going after him."

"No, you're not," Tony said, his voice suddenly hard. "Don't be stupid, Kate. He just happened to pass by? It's a damn trap and you know it."

"He's right, Kate," said a lightly accented voice behind Tony, as he suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder and the barrel of a gun dig in his lower back. "Now drop your weapon, and join my friends in that car over there."

Tony swallowed, not daring to turn his head. He looked into Kate's big eyes and nodded imperceptibly. She lowered her weapon and dropped it on the sidewalk amongst the paper bags. _It's the middle of the day, for crying out loud_, he thought, even as he scanned the streets for any cops in the area.

"Now why would she do that?" Tony drawled. He squinted at the green car—the one Kate had tried to hail—which had stopped at the corner. He tried to remember the faces of the passengers.

"Because I will blow your spine out if she doesn't. If she does, I promise I will leave you alive."

Kate scoffed at the promise, but she didn't have much of a choice. "Tony, if you don't save me, I'll kick your ass," she joked, even as she turned to the car, gripping her phone in her hand. She pressed the dial button in the distraction of getting in the car then jammed it in her pocket.

"I'll save you, Kate," Tony whispered, before he was dragged into an alley. The last thing he remembered was the white-hot pain of the gun slamming against his head. The car sped off.

The terrorist picked up Kate's 9mm on the street and casually hailed a taxi.

---

His cellphone rang as he was going down the staircase. "Gibbs," he barked into it after he noted the caller. Kate did not answer. Instead, there were distant murmurs in Arabic. He stopped short before cursing under his breath, striding down into the bullpen.

"McGee," he said harshly. "Trace Kate's phone. Now."

Xander stood up, already clipping his badge and gun to his belt. "They just went for lunch, boss."

"Ari has her," Gibbs said grimly, grabbing his own gun.

Xander didn't bother with questions, accepting Gibbs' word as fact. "They went to that deli at the corner."

"That bastard must've been watching us," Gibbs said, looking out the window into the bay. "I'll keep Kate on the line. You got an extra phone, Harris?"

Xander scrambled for his batphone. He gave it to Gibbs, leaving the number with McGee. "Call when you have a definite location. Separate cars?"

"No time," Gibbs replied tersely. "Come on."

McGee felt the sweat trickle down his nose, but he dared not stop until he got Kate's location.

---

They immediately spotted the bags of take-out by the sidewalk. Xander looked around while Gibbs called McGee for an update.

"Boss!" Xander called out when he saw Tony behind a dumpster in the alleyway.

Gibbs hurried to his side. After checking Tony's pulse, he ordered. "Call an ambulance. I'm going after Kate."

Xander wanted to protest, but he merely nodded. He dialed 911, and watched his boss leave, feeling the same helplessness as when Glory had kidnapped Dawn right before... It was at moments like these that he really missed the Scooby gang.

---

Tony woke up in the hospital. "Kate," he croaked, while a nurse checked his vitals.

"It's okay, Tony." The voice belonged to Xander, and the younger agent appeared to his left. "Kate's safe. It's over."

Tony sank down. "Gibbs?" He slurred out.

"He's fine," Xander reassured him. "Nobody got hurt, except…" his voice trailed away.

"Who?" Tony demanded, even though it felt like someone was playing a drum solo in his head.

"That blond chick you had a crush on. She's Hamas. Kate said Ari killed her. Secret service did the rest."

It was too much to digest, especially since his lunch was scattered on some street. "Bastard's still alive?"

"I'm afraid so, Tony. I'm afraid so." Xander watched his teammate fall back to sleep, thinking about what he _didn't _say.

Gibbs had been very unhappy to reach Kate's location and find Ari gone, with a dead blonde on the ground. The rest of the terrorists who were gunning for President Bush and Prime Minister Sharon were rounded up before they managed to stage their ambush on Marine One.

And within the hour, the CIA had a meeting with agency heads about their new spy.

At this very moment, Gibbs was probably sanding his boat with a vengeance, angry as a bear, still itching to put a bullet through Ari Haswari. Because now there was no way they'd let him.

---

Nobody told Gibbs what he could and couldn't do. Not his partner, nor the director, and certainly not some spook from the CIA. He was gonna owe Fornell big time for arranging this; but the FBI agent really should have known better.

It was dark in the Autopsy, just like in his dream. He stepped closer to the body bag and unzipped it. The blonde was inside with a bullet to her forehead. "She's his fall guy," Kate had explained.

Ari stepped from the shadows and he was smiling.

"Did you make love to her and then blew her brains out?" Gibbs said, baiting and watching the other man's reactions.

"She would have done the same to me," Ari said matter-of-factly.

"So now you go back to the Middle East. You tell them Marta was Mossad, and she blew the op? What makes you think they'll buy that?"

"You need not sound so concerned, Agent Gibbs. The Hamas will believe me. Al-Qaeda, however, might need a bit more _persuading_ before they confide their plans to me," Ari said, reminding Gibbs how valuable he was now as a spy.

Gibbs felt his rage thrum down his nerves, like liquid fire. He'd do anything to wipe that smile off that bastard's face. So he smiled back and said, "Maybe I can help you convince al-Qaeda."

And he put a bullet through Ari's shoulder—the same place the other man had shot Gerald—and he walked away.

Ari's laughter echoed through the corridors. He didn't look back.

Neither man noticed the pool of mist passing through the crack in the door, leaving the building through the vents. It seemed in a hurry; it had a ship to catch.

---

"I slept in a coffin," McGee confided in Xander the following afternoon, while they were eating lunch nearby. "Abby told me it was a boxed sofa, and the lights were off and we were uh, _busy_, so I didn't find out til later."

Xander laughed. "Just be grateful there's no special dirt in it, coz _that_ would freak me out."

McGee wrinkled his nose. Even after everything, Xander Harris remained an inscrutable mystery.

---

A/N: Ariel Sharon was the Israeli Prime Minister at that time. I know absolutely nothing about the Hamas-Mossad conflict in Israel. It took me a while to get through this. Hope you liked it! There will probably be a sequel, set in Season 2 of NCIS.


End file.
